Prince of All
by PryzmKess
Summary: BV story, Complete. Bulma's life is threatened by mysterious aliens, and only Vegeta has the knowledge to save her.
1. Part 1, Chapter 1

Prince of All, Part One

I am the prince of all Saiyins, the superior member of the superior race.  I am the destroyer of worlds, the breaker of entire races and prophesied to be the strongest creature in the Universe.

I am the last true Saiyin.  I am alone, surrounded by a people that don't understand me, who despise me.  All, I hope, but one.

"Vegeta!" I hear her calling me, but I ignore her for a moment.  I can't react too quickly to her voice, lest she begin to know the truth that I am in love with her, a weak, glorious human…

_Bulma lead Vegeta up a hall and pushed open a door to a small, well-lit room with a bed, dresser and closet.__  "There you are," she said cheerfully, "home sweet home."_

_Vegeta looked at her sharply.  "Earth is not my home.  My home is gone."_

_"But this room is now yours," she said with a smile that he could tell was strained.  "You'll always have it to come back to, so it's your home."  _

_"Woman, this can't replace my planet," Vegeta growled angrily.  "This is a box!"  _

_She jerked back from him, her smile gone.  "Have it your way," she snapped.  "Geez, try to be nice to a guy—"_

_"You may leave me now," Vegeta said, turning his back to her.  The sound of her stomping away hadn't been as pleasurable as he thought it would be…_

At the time, her words were a gift of unacceptable pity from a creature beneath me.  I regret those words now, when I realize that she wasn't trying to pity me, when she was just trying to welcome a lost alien into her home.   And the feelings which have grown from her accursed kindness, while personally disturbing, are there and are true.  I can't deny them, and I can't acknowledge them.

"Vegeta!" Bulma snaps again, and I set my face into a grimace and prepare to heave an aggravated sigh before I turn to face her.  Whom I see behind her makes it easy to keep the grimace up.

Yamcha is standing in his ridiculous human clothing, his hands draped uselessly in his pockets.  Bulma is wearing far less clothing than I am comfortable with, but she's smiling at me, and I forget everything else as my suspicions rise.  Yes, I am in love with her, but I'm not stupid.  She's wearing her "Bulma-wants-something" smile, and when it has been directed at me in the past, it has only caused me exasperation and inconvenience.

"You screeched?" I ask, forcing my voice to sound put-upon and bored.  I don't want to treat her so, but I know that she belongs to another, so I push her away from me.  

"Veg-gie," Bulma says pleadingly, laying her folded hands on my arm in supplication, "could you—"

Her touch sends fire racing up my nerves, but even that delicious pleasure cannot distract me from the conversation at hand.  "No," I growl, certain that if she's using that tone of voice she is really going to inconvenience me.

"You don't even know what I want," she snarls, her pleasant smile fading as she begins tapping her foot.  She doesn't know it, but this is the Bulma I love; fire in her eyes, so angry that you can almost feel heat rising off of her.  At those times, she is almost like a Saiyan woman, and it eases my homesickness a little.

"Come on, Bulma, let him be," Yamcha says condescendingly, "He's not going to join us anyway."

I glare at him, angry that he's presuming what I want, even if he is correct.  "Fine, woman," I sigh, "what is it?"

She grins again, all her anger forgotten as she gets what she wants.  "Come have bar-bee-que with us," she says, pinching her lips together after in a sign of eagerness.

"And?" I ask, unsure what else this entails.

"And socialize!" she says eagerly, waving her hands toward her patio around the corner of the house.

"Socialize?" I growl, irritated that she's bothering me with this.  Despite my feelings, I will not allow myself to be inconvenienced by a woman who can't see those feelings.  "With whom?"

"Oh, let's see," she says too casually, "just some friends of Daddy's, and some of mine, like Krillin, Tien—"

I grunt at this transparent ploy.  "Kakkarot will be there, and you want me to play nice, don't you?" I ask angrily.  "I am the prince of all Saiyans, not your party-toy!"

"I thought you might be a little lonely," she growls at me, and I feel my heart swell with desire as the growl in her voice reverberates through the air between us.  "And since they were going to discuss the androids and what to do about them, I thought you might want to join."

"There is no discussion," I growl, the thought of spending any time with anyone other than Bulma setting my nerves on end.

"Fine, mope here, alone," she says with a false airiness, flipping her hair over her shoulder and stalking away.  The moron gives me a crooked smile and starts to leave, but I'm not done with him.

"She really wanted me to go, didn't she?" I ask speculatively to the air, but it stops Yamcha.  "Makes you wonder why she desires my company so much."

"Hey, she's just trying to be nice," Yamcha says angrily.  "It wouldn't kill you to be nicer back."

I smile slightly, and say, "Well, it's good to know that she's just being polite.  I was starting to wonder if she was drawn to me."  It's not true, I know it's not, but I can't help trying to worry her boyfriend, just to cause him a bit of the pain that he causes me every day.

But I'm surprised to see how much doubt that I've put into face of the fighter, as if he truly feared what I had said.  "Do me a favor, Vegeta," Yamcha spits.  "Don't talk to me anymore."

"Nothing would please me more," I growl, happy that we understand each other at last.  Yamcha had been overly friendly before today – I know that was Bulma's influence, her attempts to keep me from being "lonely".  Maybe now he would leave me the hell alone.

"Yamcha!" Bulma shouts from the corner of her house.  "You coming, or do you want to keep smarming with Vegeta?"

"Coming, dear!" Yamcha shouts back as he trots over to her.  He scoops her up in his arms, twirling her around before kissing her.  I make myself watch them, seeing every smile, every touch.  This is the way it is, and I will endure it, just as I endured my father, Frieza and Zarbon.   After they move around the corner, her still in the idiot's arms, I turn back to my training.

I'm in the middle of my most complicated kata when a flash from the top of the Capsule Corp building catches my eye.  With a frown, I stop and float upward a few meters, trying to see what is flashing in the light.

I'm just in time to see what looks like a heat wave shimmer over the roof-top, and then slip into the building through a vent in the roof.  The movement of the "heat shimmer" brings back the memory of what it is.  

"Xager," I growl, and power up.  In response, I feel Kakkarot's power spike, then the bald human's, then the moron as all the party-goers realize that something's up.  Ignoring the others, I shoot up two hundred feet, then tuck into a tight roll so that I'm facing down without losing too much speed.  With a battle-roar, I fly down at the building, cracking through its outer shell and into the lab below.  

The Xager is in the room next to a computer, and it twists its small rodent-like body to face me.  With a hiss, it's personal force-field rises, and I'm left staring at another heat-shimmer.  But I know where it is, and I don't have to see it now.  With a snarl, I fly at it and punch it in the body, making a clean contact.  I grin as I feel the tough little creature's skin buckle over my fist.

"Hema das!  Caraba yahi!" the Xager shouts, and then the world is enveloped in a blinding flash of white.  I snarl as I recognize the blinding attack, but my eyes are already blasted, and I can only guess where the creature is.  At the last second, I hear a mechanical noise, and I spin and turn my kick against that.  

I didn't hit clean this time, partially because I couldn't see, and partially because the little rodent had moved.  I felt the toe of my boot connect, but I could tell that it was a glancing blow. Damn it, I had forgotten how quick the little buggers are.  The good news is I'm staring to see again, in blurry little streaks of color.  But I don't need to see to deliver this little bastard to the next life.

"Vegeta!"  How wonderful.  Kakkarot is here.  I was hoping that he'd stay out, but that was apparently a blind hope.

"Stay out of my way, Kakkarot!" I shout as I punch the air where the Xager had just been.  I connect with machinery, but I see a moving blur out of the corner of my slowly clearing eyes.   I kick at the blur, and am pleased to hear the grunt of the Xager and the sound of dropped parts.

"What is that thing?" I hear Kakkarot ask, and he sounds closer.  Just what I need.  His interference.  Again.

"A Xager," I answer, reminding myself that it is my duty to teach Kakkarot how to be a Saiyan, if possible.  "You can kill them with one blow to the shoulder.  When this one stops wiggling, I'll show you where to strike."  I can see even better now, and I can see the heat shimmer huddling on itself on the floor.  Kakkarot and his human friends are hovering over the building, staring down at me.

"No kill," the Xager rasps, and I stare at it in surprise.  I didn't know that the little pests spoke anything other than their garbled tongue.  They had never spoken directly to Frieza in their dealings with him, only through a translator.  Of course I avoided speaking to Frieza when I could as well, so I guess I couldn't blame them for that.  "No kill for knowing."

"What?" Yamcha asks, and I don't deign to answer him.  Any idiot should be able to tell that the creature was willing to trade information for its life.

Kakkarot kneels down next to it.  "What do you think is worth your life?" he asks it clearly, shouting only a little.  I roll my eyes.  Xagers constantly lie, but Kakkarot hadn't asked me, despite my obvious knowledge, and I wasn't going to volunteer.

"Oh, my god," Bulma says from the doorway.  She is panting slightly, and I guess that she has run from the party downstairs to this room.  "What the hell is going on?"  She jumps forward suddenly and picks up the piece of machinery that the Xager dropped.  She turns it over and over in her hands as if trying to identify it, but she knows what it is.  I can tell from the worried frown and the way she bits her lip.

"Know who want that," the Xager says, pointing at the piece of machinery in Bulma's hands.

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Author's Note: Chapter two tomorrow, and so forth until it's all posted.  Let me know if you like it, and please see my profile for news on my other pieces of fiction.


	2. Part 1, Chapter 2

A quick note: Someone asked what a Xager was.  It is a made-up alien, designed to fill a plot point and get the story rolling.  Don't overanalyze dear readers.  ;^

Back to the story!

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"Know who want that," the Xager says, pointing at the piece of machinery in Bulma's hands.

"Who?" I demand, clenching my fists as I loom over the little rodent.  

"Avidaris Montidulein," the little beast gets the words out surprising well considering its lack of a proper native language.

"Of the Black Star Syndicate?" I ask, hoping that it's not him.  Although my optimism is somewhat empty; after all, how many Avidaris Montiduleins can there be?  The creature's nod destroys that tiny hope.

"So why does he want that?" Goku asks, pointing at the machine in Bulma's hands.

"No know.  He just want," the Xager groans as it sits upright.  It must be feeling better; its eyes have started the Xagers' customary darting around, seeking whatever advantage it may find.

"It's useless without the codes anyway," Bulma says with a sigh, setting the piece of machinery on a worktable.  She stares at the little creature, and then turns to Goku and asks, "So what do we do with him?"  

I start to answer her, but she leans back against the workbench and rubs the back of her leg with her foot, making her sundress do interesting things.  I lose my train of thought completely, and am caught off guard when Kakkarot says, "Let him go, I guess."

"What?" I snarl in rage, turning on the fool.  "Let the rodent go?  How did that idea lodge in your lame mind, Kakkarot?"

"Well, it gave us information," Kakkarot says sheepishly, "so we should let him go."

"It's a Xager, and it probably lied," I say.

"Hey, letting it go is the right thing to do," Yamcha snaps.  I barely choke back vomit at the righteous tone in his voice.

"You are all weak-willed, foolish creatures," I snarl and start to stomp away.

"Hey, we let you go once," Krillin yells at my back. 

Without turning around, I answer, "That _was_ my point."  Let them chew on _that_ for a while.  I have to find out what Montidulein wants with one of Bulma's machines.  The Black Star Syndicate can be vicious, and I have to protect her from them.

*  *  *

If I ever had to thank Frieza for one thing, it would be his requirement that I learn to use and repair most machinery.  But that would be only the most grudging thanks possible, and I would follow it with a burst of energy that would burn the egg-sucking lizard to nothingness.

Regardless, it is that training that will make protecting Bulma possible, so I guess that white monster was good for something.  Rewiring the subspace communicator in the grounded Namekian spaceship so that it would work was easier than I remember, and I am pleased to hear the static that flows out of the speakers when I give it power.  I slide the dial to the right until I hear the hiss of the open channel.

A sound behind me alerts me, and I flip the switch to mute before I twist in the seat to see who it is.  Blue eyes meet mine, and I just stare at her, watching the moonlight from the open door turn her hair silver-blue.

"Vegeta, what are you doing?" she asks softly, her eyes traveling over the instrument boards, taking note of the changes I have made.

"Making a call, if you don't mind," I answer, and curse myself silently when I hear how gentle and soft that answer is.  She catches my tone, and looks at me quizzically; I keep my face blank, trying to will her to leave.

"Why are you only nice to me when we're alone?" I had long feared this question from her, and to have it come now, when I was so worried for her, only made it worse.  I feel my face jerk as I try to betray nothing to her, and wonder what to say.  I couldn't deny that what she said was true, but I can't tell her the truth either.  So I just look at her in the semi-dark of the spaceship, and wonder what to say.

Finally, she looks away, staring at the moon through the open window of the ship.  "Can I sit here while you make your call?" she asks softly, her voice slightly pleading.

"Why?  And why aren't you with your moron – didn't I hear him say he was staying here tonight?" I counter.

Bulma curls up in the co-pilot's seat, her leg brushing my seat briefly as she slides into place.  "He's with the others, still trying to figure out whom this Avidaris Montidulein is, and what he wants," she grouses softly, pulling her knees up to her chin and wrapping her arms around them.

"How are they coming with that?" I ask, keeping my voice neutral.

She snorts in distain and says, "They're not."  She rolls her head so that she can look at me, and adds, "But you know who he is and what he wants, don't you?"

"Avidaris Montidulein is a high-ranking member of the Black Star Syndicate who is in charge of their black market acquisitions and sales.  The Black Star Syndicate is a ruthless illegal organization that is focused on making money for the organization and its members.  Why do they want that machine?" I ask, knowing that is the piece of information that I need.  Hopefully since I have been forthcoming, she will be as well.

She turns to look back out the window, and I watch her watch the moon.  I have to be patient – if she wanted people to know about this device, she would have told everyone already.  "It's a weapon," she answers finally.   "It creates sub-harmonics that can cause massive fluctuations in ki.  If I can ever get it to work, it could raise or lower someone's ki level against their will."

I stare at her, not sure that I want to know about this device.  "Against their will," I mutter, forcing myself to grind through the implications of such a machine.  It could sap a warrior of his strength.

Or force a Saiyan to the next level.

"Does it work?" I ask, not even bothering to keep my voice casual.

"No," she pouts, and I fight the urge to smile at the frustration in her voice.  It is not the type of frustration that will hurt her, but rather the drive that will force her to complete it.  She's silent for a moment, and then asks, "So is now when you ask me to use it on you to turn you into a Super Saiyan?"

"No," I answer, "that is not the way of the Saiyan.  I need to earn the title of Super Saiyan."

"Ah," she replies, "Saiyan pride rears its ugly head again."

I glance at her sharply.  "I will become a Super Saiyan in my own right, not because a machine gives it me," I answer tersely as I grab the headset.

"I'm sure you will," she replies softly.  I hesitate for a second, trying to figure out if she is mocking me or agreeing with me, but I shake it off.  I have a call to make.

I had memorized so many different escape routes from Frieza; over a hundred before the first two years I was with him, though I lost track after that.  All of them had a fatal weakness that had meant that I could never think of engaging them.  One of them had involved the Black Star Syndicate.  If I hadn't had Earth to go to, or Kakkarot to kill, then I might have been the leader of them by now.

And I would be hunting Bulma.  But those are the paths of life; one never knows where one will end up.  I punched in the ship-to-ship codes that my childhood self had so painstakingly researched, the numbers that I had hoped briefly would save me from Frieza.  Before I had found out there was no escape.

The screen flashes and settles into a holding signal, and the headset beeps lightly in my ear.  Bulma shifts and leans forward suddenly, to see the screen, I presume.  I have only enough time to hold up one finger in a "quiet" gesture before the headset beeps solidly and the screen flares to life.  Bulma has her hand on the arm of my chair, and I lay my hand lightly over hers to conceal it.  It would not do to let them see her, and I ignore my enjoyment.

"Yes?" the answering alien asks, and I let my smile twist into a truly arrogant grimace.  "Maldock, how good to meet you." I growl, careful not to be too arrogant and condescending; I have to walk fine line between bravado and intimidation.

"Who are you?" Maldock asks, leaning his large gray-yellow head into the view-screen to see me better.  Verishics have wonderful hearing and scent, but poor eyesight, and I'm grateful that even if Bulma does lean in too close, he won't be able to see her.

"Do you not recognize me?" I ask arrogantly, knowing that the statement will only irritate the myopic alien in front of me.  "I am Vegeta, Prince of All Saiyans."

Even if my voice and face did not mean anything to the Verishic, my name did.  "Lord Frieza is dead, so don't think that you can wheedle favors from Black Star in your master's name, monkey."

I bite back the snarl at the hated nick-name.  Frieza had invented it, and made sure that the galaxy knew of it.  I must stay calm; I must steer this conversation, not be steered.  "What I am seeking will aid your keeper," I answer, tilting my head to one side.

"Fine, what?" Maldock sighed, waving his tentacle-like fingers.

Repressing a grimace at the alien's gross anatomy, I answer, "I can get the machine he wants.  The one that his pet Xager failed to get."  Beside me, Bulma jerks, and I see her mouth open.  I squeeze her hand, asking her silently to be quiet just a bit longer.

"Really?" Maldock sneers, leaning forward.  "According to our reports, it was _you who captured the agent."  _

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I hope my devoted readers are enjoying this – all ten of you!  Chapter 3, tomorrow or the day after that – I do have other things that I need to do, not that I enjoy them as much as this...


	3. Part 1, Chapter 3

Sorry about the delay – my sister asked me to help her move some stuff to her new apartment.  She's going to start her Masters!  I'm so excited for her.

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"Really?" Maldock sneers, leaning forward.  "According to our reports, it was _you_ who captured the agent."  His tone is as slimy as his skin, and I feel my lip curl in contempt.

I shrug, trying not to show any of the emotions washing through me.  "I didn't know who he was working for," I answer nonchalantly.

"Because you wouldn't have stopped him?" Maldock asks snidely, waving those nasty fingers dismissively.

"No.  I still would have stopped him, but I wouldn't have done it like I did," I answer.  "I would have killed it, taken the device, and contacted Black Star myself."

"Interesting," Maldock replies, rolling his bulbous eyes.  "But the option is no longer open, is it?"

"I can get it still," I snap, irritated at this heinous creature.  I glance at Bulma, trying to seem like I'm dismissive of the beast on the screen as I continue, "I may still get it, but you're giving me enough hassle that I may take it else where."  Bulma's eyes latch onto mine, and I continue looking at her, just watching her.  Let the Verishic think I am ignoring him.

Bulma's expression suddenly changes from confusion to curiosity, and I'm suddenly the clueless one, wondering what thoughts are dancing through her brain.  It only took me one day to learn to beware of her curiosity when I first arrived, and I shift my attention hurriedly back to the screen.

Maldock's entire face clenches, making him look like dried-up mushroom.  "I will have to check with my employer before I can authorize any payment," he finally says, reluctance clear in his voice.

"Better hurry," I snarl as I lean forward for emphasis.  "I've got better things to do with my time than wait on you."  And with that, I snap the console off.

"Why are you doing this?" Bulma asks quietly, cocking her head to one side.  "I don't owe you anything, and I know that you don't have any love for any of us.  Why?"

"I have my reasons," I growl, my heart clenching to hear Bulma say that I don't love her.  I wish that I could say what I feel, but I will not put myself where I am not wanted.

"Vegeta," she murmurs, and I look at her in the dim moonlight.  Her eyes are large and round in her delicate face and the  silver light has softened her features even more.  

"Yes?" I try to snarl the word, but it won't turn sharp for me; it floats out, hanging expectantly in the night air, softening the already gentle mood in the ship further.

"I can't move my hand," she answers, her voice still soft.

I blink as I realize that I'm still covering her hand with mine, my thumb rolling in small circles over her fingers.  I snatch the offending body member away, angry that my hands have betrayed me.  I can feel the heat rise to my face as I glower at the control panel.

"Thanks," she says, rubbing her hand, and I shoot a quick glance at her face, trying to read what emotion she might be displaying.  There is nothing but calm cheerfulness and a touch of relief.  She smiles at me suddenly, leaving me feeling like a child caught staring as she guilelessly says, "Now what?"

"Now I wait," I answer gruffly, hiding my confusion as best I can.

"So what do I do?" she replies.

"Wait," I answer, knowing that it won't please her.  She does wait, though obviously without any patience, crossing her arms over her chest and staring quietly out the front window.  

Suddenly, she shudders, and I glance at her.  I'm surprised to see sorrow and fear on her face, and I fight the urge to do whatever it takes to make her smile again.  "What is wrong with you, woman?" I growl, but again, my growl lacks heat.

"I was just remembering the last time I was in one of these," she answers softly, "when I thought I was going to die on Namek."  Her eyes widen suddenly and she sits up straight as she turns to me, her face embarrassed.  "I shouldn't have said that, not to you."

I clench my fists, angry that she knows of my shame.  Kakkarot must have told her of my dying words, when I spoke freely because I thought I wouldn't have to care what he or anyone else thought of me.  She knows that I was weak.

"Vegeta, I'm sorry I said that," she says, and her voice compels me to look at her.  She looks distressed and upset.  "I know that you _did die there; it was insensitive of me to whine about it."_

I stare at the console again.  "It was nothing.  A warrior faces death all the time."

"But you died," she replies, "and that changes it.  Death changes people – it did Yamcha."

I turn to look at her; she is staring at her fingers, wrapping them around and around one another endlessly.  Her expression is sad and lonely, and my heart crumbles.  I am on the verge of doing something foolish and weak when I am saved by Maldock; the headset beeps once and I open the communications channel eagerly.

"We'll take it, on one condition.  What is your price?" Maldock asks, his voice abrupt with displeasure.

"What is the condition?" I ask, frowning at the screen.  

"No, name your price and we'll pay it.  Then we'll discuss conditions," Maldock sneers.

"Absolutely not," I growl in answer.  "I agree to nothing until I know the full terms."

"Very well," Maldock says, spreading his hands wide for emphasis.  "You have taken this out of my control.  I cannot tell you the condition until you agree to a price, so you will have talk to Master Montidulein.  And he will be most displeased to be bothered."

If he was trying to scare me, it wasn't going to work.  "At least I'll be talking to someone important, rather than a little lapdog," I say with a shrug.

Maldock's watery eyes narrow angrily, but he only says, "Hold on just a moment."  The screen goes to black, and Bulma leans toward me again.

"Stay back," I hiss quickly, afraid to even look at her right now, worried that Montidulein will appear at any second.

"Sorry," she murmurs, sitting back.  "I was trying to see."

"Well, don't," I growl.  I shouldn't do it, but I glance quickly at her, just to see her face.  She is watching me, her eyes fixed firmly on me.

The screen flashes to life and in its center is Montidulein.  No other creature matched the description of his species so well – a long, shimmery, body stretches impossibly thin, looking too fragile to support its own weight.  His features are hard to see; they blend neatly into one another, giving one the impression that they were talking to a blur of light.  Frieza always said that talking to a Calcastian gave him horrible migraines.

I watch as he sits back in his chair.  He's moving normally, so either he's adjusted to standard gravity, or he's in a low-gravity chamber.  Calcastians are from a low-gravity world, which was why they tended to be so tall and fragile.  "Vegeta, the mighty Saiyan," he says softly, his voice ringing with authority and control.  "Greetings and well met."

"Montidulein," I answer with a respectful nod.

"I have often wished to meet you," he says suddenly, catching me slightly off-guard.  What was his game?  Why would the leader of one of the most powerful criminal syndicates in the universe know about me?  I am the prince of a dead planet, and nothing more since Kakkarot stole the title of Super Saiyan from me.  

I keep my gaze impassive as I answer, "Of course you want to meet the Prince of all Saiyans.  And now you have."

"I would have you working for the syndicate," he replies, "not as an employee of course, but as a free-lance fighter.  I have heard of your skills, and they are extraordinary."

I smile tightly, letting the empty praise wash over me.  "It is something that I would consider."

"Good," he replies, and I think that his face tightens with a cold smile.  "If you bring me the device, then your place would be assured."

Of course, no mention of what – or where – that place would be.  "Your lapdog said that there was a condition," I say, eager to find out what the clause is.

Montidulein does smile this time, as he leans toward the monitor, "I want the device, and I want its creator.  For these two things, I will pay whatever price you name."

My heart clenches with fear as I fight to keep my face neutral.  "That harpy?" I growl.  "She'll be troublesome – I assume you want her alive and unharmed."

Montidulein waves his hands about in the air.  "Mostly unharmed is all I require," he seems to smirk as he adds, "If you have an old grudge to settle with her, then I will not mind, so long as her mind is not damaged."

"I think that I want nothing to do with this," I sigh irritability.  "If you had wanted just the device, then fine, but the woman is nothing but trouble."

"It will lower what I am willing to pay," Montidulein answers, and his smile is gone.  "But I can privately contract out to another person to fetch her."

I pretend to nonchalantly consider this as my mind races, trying to think of what to do.  If I don't accept the offer, then I have to worry about someone else kidnapping her.  "Fine, I do the woman too, but you must transport me off this rock," I growl.  "I don't want to be here when her friends find her gone."

"Done!" he snaps, a wide grin stretching across his pale face.  "We'll come to you once you have the device and the woman.  What is your price?"

"Two billion," I answer easily.  It is a ludicrous amount, but I want to make him squirm.

For one heartbeat, I think that he's going to say no.  His smile fades, and anger flashes over his features.  Then he's composed again, and he merely answers, "Fine, if you have both the girl and the device."  He leans forward again until he fills the screen completely.  "But you had better have both, Saiyan.  You've pushed me as far as you can."  The screen goes blank.

I shut off the console and sit back thinking.  I am worried; for him to agree to the money meant that he wants Bulma's device very badly.  Worse, he hadn't told me to contact him; he had said that he would come when I had the device and Bulma, which meant that he was watching, or going to be watching, us.  That would make any plan more difficult.  "You won't get away with it," Bulma says suddenly, distracting me from my half-formed plot.  I look at her, and am surprised to see anger and fear on her face.  She doesn't trust me at all, and I hide the sorrow of that knowledge deep inside.

"Stupid woman," I mutter, "I have no intention of turning you over to Montidulein."

"Why not?" she snaps.  "I thought that you couldn't wait to be rid of the _harpy_!"

"I get to kill more people if I help you than if I don't," I answer coldly, and she shrinks further from me, her eyes wide with shock.

Suddenly her face changes expression, and she sits up and snaps, "I don't believe you."

"Are you calling me a liar, woman?" I snarl, and my anger is real.  No one doubts my word!

"Because of the way that your face gets all soft when you talk to me, or the way that your voice looses its growl!"  Her face breaks into an excited smile as she nearly shouts, "You like me!"

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Whoops!  Has Bulma figured him out?  I'll update in a day or two.

Keep those reviews coming!  Good, bad, indifferent – I want to hear them all.  But be warned, if you don't have an honest criticism, I will probably make fun of you to all my friends.  I think that's fair, don't you?


	4. Part 1, Chapter 4

"Because of the way that your face gets all soft when you talk to me, or the way that your voice looses its growl!"  Her face breaks into an excited smile as she nearly shouts, "You like me!"

I'm caught flat-footed, my jaw hanging open.  She knows how I feel, and she's happy!  She isn't uncomfortable, or mocking me.  I'm frozen, unsure of what to do.  This outcome was something that I had never even conceived of in all my tightly-controlled thoughts of her.  And worse, I feel my cold, cold heart flutter with hope.

"Hey, there you are!" Krillian's voice behind us pulls my attention away from her.  "Yamcha's worried about you, Bulma; he didn't know where you had gone."

"Hey, Krillian, Vegeta likes me!" Bulma squeals, and for a brief moment, I think that I could kill her.

"What about Yamcha?" Krillian asks, starting a nervous sweat.

"Not boyfriend-girlfriend like, stupid!  Like a friend, a real person!" Bulma rolls her eyes and giggles.  My heart slams into the floor of the ship, and I know a pain that I have not known since I was a child.  "He's going to help me against the, the… Hey Vegeta, what were they called?"  

"The Black Star Syndicate," I grind out, my pain and anger at this turn of events clear in my voice.  Krillian looks at me, surprised by my tone, but Bulma is as obvious as normal.

"Yeah, them!" she says.  "I'm going to tell the others, and then we can plan.  Wow, I feel great now that I know you guys are going to keep me safe!"  And like a whirlwind, she is gone, leaving only destruction in her wake, dashing out the door back to her Yamcha.

"You ok?" Krillian says, his tone sounding tight.  "You look like you've been broad-sided."

I glare at him, but he cuts me off, "Right, I forgot, you're always ok because you're the Prince of all Saiyans."  There is a moment of expectant silence; him just looking at me, and I waiting for him to leave.

Finally, I ask, "Do you want something?"

"No, no, not really," Krillian answers, "though I am curious about something.  Can I ask you a question?"

"No," I answer, scowling harder.

"When we found Bulma was missing, Yamcha said something funny," Krillian continues, ignoring me.  "He said that we should find you, and Bulma would be with you.  Isn't that a weird thing for a guy to say about his girlfriend?  And how much weirder is it that he was right?"

"I know nothing about your culture, human," I snap and stand, planning to push past him.  To my surprise, he doesn't leap away from me, like he normally does.  I look at him, really look at him this time, and am surprised to see anger simmering in his eyes.

"Just don't break them up, ok?" Krillian says.  "Because we both know that you can't love her the way that he does."

"Out of my way, shortie," I growl and snap each word out.  My fists are trembling at my side, and I wonder when I lost so much self-control that my hands would betray me twice in one night.

Krillian steps aside, his small dark eyes over-flowing with emotion.  "I just don't want to see them hurt.  You're a cold-blooded killer, a destroyer of planets; Yamcha's been doing good and helping us for a long time now.  Don't ruin their happiness."

"Look, baldie," I snap as I lean over him, "I have done nothing to ruin their precious happiness."

"I just don't think," Krillian says and then stops.  I let him gather his thoughts, curious about what he is going to say.  Finally, he continues, "I guess I'm just saying, Bulma doesn't think about you that way, but Yamcha's all too aware of your strength compared to his.  It makes him nervous and so all I'm saying is, don't antagonize him."

"I'm helping her because I can kill more people helping than I would not helping," I say wearily as I get up to leave the ship.  "Does that make you happy?"

Krillian waves his hands in the air in a gesture meant to pacify me.  "I'm not accusing you of anything.  I'm just asking you not to hurt them.  They're very good for one another."

"You should have said she's too good for him," I snap as I stride past him, only to jerk to a stop when I hear my own words.  The betrayal earlier by my hands now seems like nothing compared to the betrayal of my tongue.   I whirl on the surprised human, acting without thought, pointing a finger into his chest.  "This conversation never happened."

Krillian takes in my stormy eyes, my reddening face.  "Yes, it did, but I won't tell anyone about it," he says, and he sounds tired.  "Just try not to do too much damage to them, ok?"

I ignore him and stride past, eager to put this horrible night behind me.  That ideal is not to be, as I am met by an angry Yamcha as I step off the grounded ship.  "What the hell do you think that you're doing?" he yells, and only Bulma's presence behind him keeps my fists from his face.

"He's helping," Bulma butts in, "and doing a damn sight better than you, I might add."  Yamcha tosses a brief scowl at her, and I move to take her out of the conversation.

"Stay out of this, woman," I growl.  "The boy is talking to me."  

Bulma rolls her eyes at me, clearly expressing her opinion of my statement, but Yamcha's face turns even redder.  "Don't talk to her, don't look at her, don't even talk about her!  Stay the hell away, do you hear me?" he shouts, and Bulma stares at him with shock.  I am suddenly calm, for if he is so angry that he's acting like this, then I have finally hurt him as much as I have been hurt.  I smirk at him and break out into a howling laugh, watching the rage in his face multiply.  I step around him, still laughing at him, at his impudence.  But even my laughter doesn't stop me from sensing his swing.

I twist away from him with a little leap into the air, sending him stumbling forward one step before I catch him by the scruff of the neck.  My free hand comes around and punches him once in the stomach, then flies up to grab the front of his neck.  Before he can respond, I have him suspended in the air before me, choking as he hangs from one hand.  

"No! Vegeta, put him down!" Bulma shrieks, lunging forward and grabbing my upraised arm.  Yamcha grabs my wrist reflexively, trying to lift his body and take some pressure off his throat, and I let him, but not too far.  I don't wish to kill him, but there is a lesson that must be learned here.

"He attacked me, woman," I reply calmly.  "Give me a reason to do so."

"Because he's sorry!" Bulma shouts, jerking fruitlessly on my arm.

I look up at Yamcha; his face is burning a deep red and his breath is hissing in and out of him in a painful sound, but his eyes are filled with his pride and fear.  "He doesn't look like he's sorry," I say to her, smirking slightly.  "I think that if I put him down, he'll attack me again."

Bulma stares at him for a second, and I can see her incredible mind working, trying to come up with the right thing to say to me.  "Because he's a stupid hot-headed boy, and you're above that sort of foolishness," she finally answers.

The smile that breaks out across my face is not completely humorous; part of me is happy to hear her praise me above him, and another part is sad that she obviously doesn't mean it.  Sorrow, happiness and cruel amusement all dance across my face and Bulma sees it all.  Her eyes narrow in deliberate curiosity, and I realize that I shouldn't give her more time to study me, lest she figure out what I was thinking.  "Did you hear that, boy?" I growl as I turn back to Yamcha and shake him lightly, causing him to gag louder.  "You're a silly, hot-headed boy and I'm above that foolishness."  The look in his eyes is rewarding.

"You've got what you want, Vegeta," Bulma pleads, tugging again on my arm, though this time she puts no real effort behind it.  "Put him down.  Please."

It's the please that gets me.  I shrug and set him down, pretending indifference.  He staggers away from me, choking and gasping.  Bulma runs up to help him and he pushes her away from him, his pain-bright eyes screaming how angry he is at her.  I hold myself in check as she turns and dashes off into the night, her hands clenched tight and her face straining not to cry.

"Someone needs to watch her.  The Black Star could have agents out there," I say to the quiet night around me.  Yamcha opens his mouth, but another coughing fit seizes him, and it is left to Krillian to ruin things.

"I bet you'd like to volunteer," the midget says, and I glare at him.  

"No, shortie, I was going to suggest you do it, since you're useless for anything else," I snap at him.

"Not a bad idea, Krillan," Kakkarot's voice cuts through the tension.  "It's been a rough night for everyone."  He's standing just inside the ring of light made by the overhead lamp.  How long had he been standing there?

"What about you?" Krillan asks my only subject.  "You're better with her than I am."

"I've got to talk with Vegeta," Kakkarot answers, looking at me.  His expression is not its normal idiotic self, but serious.  

"Not here," I tell him.  He looks sharply at me, but he nods and we both leap into the air, leaving Krillan behind looking miserable.  

We soar high into the air, well above the land below.  When Kakkarot is like this, preparing for or in serious battle, it is then that I can see him as truly Saiyan.  We both know where we're going, flying with the purity of purpose and we both know that we're not going to talk about anything until we're there.  Finally, the white spire comes into view, and we arc up, sweeping to the top of that pillar.  And only when our feet touch the ground of the Guardian of Earth's home, does Kakkarot turn to me.  "Bulma said that you had a plan," he says.

I roll my eyes.  "She can't keep silent for a moment, can she?" I hiss.  "She'll ruin it all if she keeps going on about it."

"You think that this Montidulein could find things out?" Kakkarot asks.

"I think that he has spies on this planet," I answer, "and I'm sure that they will be watching us soon, if not right now.  He didn't tell me how to contact him, just that he would pick me up when I had both of them."

"Then we'd better get on with it and get back to Bulma," Kakkarot answers, and I quickly lay it out for him.

When I'm done, he nods.  "It might work," he says.  "But Yamcha won't like it."

"If he comes up with a plan that he likes and will work as well, he's welcome to it," I snap.  "In the meantime, I'm the only one with anything."  I step forward and point my finger at Kakkarot.  "Just make sure you're ready when they come."

"I know, I know," Kakkarot nods.  "We'll be ready."

*  *  *

Now.  Now's the time, but I find my feet stuck to the ground.  I need to move soon; I've got what I need, and Yamcha's busy with Kakkarot's little "task".  Gohan, who is supposed to be guarding Bulma, has "gone to the restroom".  All arrangements are in place; it is time to go, and I begin my plan with a heavy heart.  I wish that I could have told her what was going to happen, but her reactions must be spontaneous in case there are any hidden watchers.  As I push off the ground and fly up to her window, one thought plays through my mind constantly.  _Bulma, forgive me._

I drop silently onto her balcony, rag in my hand.  I quickly press the bottle of the chloroform to the rag and turn it down to let it soak into the cloth.  When I have enough liquid on it, I set the bottle aside and move to her bed.

She's sleeping, angelic.  For one heartbeat, I watch her, and then I move.  As gently as I can, I press the rag to her nose and mouth.  Her eyes snap open, and she stares at me, startled, before she begins to struggle.  I easily keep the cloth against her face, though the look in her eyes is killing me.  So angry, so betrayed, but I won't look away.  I do not shy away from the reality of things, from the truth of the world – or the anger in her eyes.  Gradually, her hands slow their weak protests, and her eyes roll back and close.  I count to ten, leaving the rag there, and then scoop her up in my arms.  

The door opens suddenly, and I twist to face Yamcha.  His eyes flutter to Bulma, unconscious in my arms, and then to my stolen belt, which holds both the device and other supplies.  "You bastard!" he shouts and his panic only increases when Bulma remains limp and still against me.


	5. Part 1, Chapter 5

A quick note before you continue:

First, I'd like to thank everyone who has reviewed.  You have all liked it thus far, and I am very appreciative of you kind comments.  Thank you very much.

Second, I have revised and corrected the previous chapters – all of them.  I was reading them today, and realized that my verb tense was flying all over the place!  All instances where I have screwed up the tense have been fixed.  If you see one, feel free to let me know – I want all my stories to be as good as they can be.  Also, the first chapter has had a minor rewrite – if you even notice it, it will be a pay-off later in the story.  The first person who figures it out and emails/reviews the answer will get my admiration and I'll write a short, one-shot story about the characters of their choice (maximum four people, ok?).  I haven't tried anything like this before, but it could be fun!

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The door opens suddenly, and I twist to face Yamcha.  His eyes flutter to Bulma, unconscious in my arms, and then to my stolen belt, which holds both the device and other supplies.  "You bastard!" he shouts and his panic only increases when Bulma remains limp and still against me.

I spring into the air, cursing all of Kakkarot's ancestors for creating a creature incapable of such a simple task as distracting the moron.  I slip and twist out the window as his cries and curses follow me.  I think for one moment that he's too afraid to follow, but he screws his courage to the sticking point and pursues me quickly.

I pour the power into my flight, trying to escape him, but I know that he'll probably just continue to follow my chi signature, no matter how far ahead I get.  And he won't hurt me as long as I have Bulma, which gives me an idea.  I stop in mid-air and let him catch up.  While he's coming, I make sure that Bulma is between us, so that he won't take a shot at me.

He snaps to a stop.  "I won't let you get away with this, Vegeta," he screams, drawing his hands back into a fighting stance.  

"Careful.  You can't fight me without risking Bulma," I mock him.

"I know I can't beat you in a fight," Yamcha hisses.  "But I can still stop your plans."  His eyes never leave my face, but his hands begin to glow.

Almost too late, I realize what he means.  I have only time to spin around, pull Bulma closer to me and hope that she's alright.  As he blasts my back, I know that I have to stop him, quickly, before he hurts her.  But I know that I have to just stop him, not kill him; Bulma would not easily forgive me for killing her play-thing, even in her defense.

My blistered and ravaged back is still to him as I decide my course of action.  It is tricky, but it should work.  If it fails, it will fail horribly.  I gaze down at Bulma, allowing myself one moment to see her in sleeping perfection.  "Good luck," I murmur to her, and then toss her straight up in the air.

I have to be careful with this throw – too high, and she'll never come back down.  Too low, and I won't have time to both neutralize Yamcha and save her.  I don't look to see how accurate my toss was; I whirl on Yamcha, the chi burning along my nerves as I call the power to my fingertips.  The chi blast catches Yamcha in the chin; he was staring up at Bulma's falling body.  The blast spins him end over end, and I hope that he'll fall to the earth, spent now.  

Bulma falls past me, and I curse as I spin into a plunging drop to her.  She is dropping fast, but there is nothing faster than a flying Saiyan.  I catch up to her body easily and slip one arm quickly under her shoulders while slipping the other under her knees.  Having my firm grip on her established, I began to slowly cut my speed so that I didn't hurt her with the powerful forces of my flight.  

I cut my speed slowly enough that I actually land on the ground, my knees buckling to absorb the shock of landing.  I end up on half-kneeling on the ground, Bulma locked gently in my arms.  My back still aches, but the dull pounding is receding quickly.  My mouth twists into a smug smile; the wimp still couldn't hurt me very much at all, even when I give him my back.  That thought warms my heart as I rise to my feet and float up into the air again.  A quick glance shows that Yamcha isn't anywhere in sight; it's nice to know that my chi blast can still drop the weakling to his knees.

On my flight to the meeting place, Yamcha's actions begin to fully register with me. He was going to harm or even kill Bulma to keep me from taking her.  He was going to kill her, and I realize that my arms are aching as I attempt to keep from squeezing her frail, unconscious body tighter.  How could he do that?

Then I realized – he probably imagined that he would just bring her back with the Dragonballs.  And if I weren't around to argue the point, as I'm sure that he believed Kakkarot would kill me for kidnapping Bulma, I could then be blamed for her death.  She would have believed that I had killed her.  My hatred of the scarred man rises to new levels.

My destination draws near, and I drift toward the dark mouth of the cave slowly, my eyes studying the lay of the surrounding land again. It was as I remembered it from my solitary trainings here; a natural dry cave nestled between two sharp mountain slopes.  The cave sat in such a way that those in its entrance wouldn't be able to see others approaching; it was perfect for the ambush.  Kakkarot and the others should be here soon, and there were plenty of places to hide; even those morons couldn't screw it up.  

I have one stop before beginning my wait in the cave.  A natural chimney was hidden in one side of the mountain, well away from the cave's opening.  I land and gently move Bulma to one arm.  With my free hand, I secure the rope ladder with its aluminum rungs and drop it down the chimney.  The weighted device slithers and clicks into the darkness, hidden well back in the cave.  

The final piece of my plan in place, I then fly around to the mouth of the cave and land in the entrance to its dark recess.  I walk deep inside, near to the rope ladder.  Popping open on the woman's father's ingenious capsules, I lay Bulma carefully on the bed that appears.  I move to the ladder and quickly hide it behind a stalagmite.   A noise at the front of the cave puts me on alert.  I move back out into the open, carefully, expecting to see Yamcha or one of the other fools.  

A Tr'dalack stood in the opening, peering into the darkness.  Several other alien creatures clustered around it, and I realized that my plan was in trouble.  Montidulein's people were already here, and he was not.  "Get lost," I growl arrogantly at them, deciding to play dumb.  "You're not going to want to get involved in what is happening here."

"We're from Montidulein," the Andolisn says from behind the black bulk of the Tr'dalack, stepping forward with the race's typical grace.  "You're expecting us, or at least, you'd better be expecting us."

"You're earlier than I anticipated," I snap.  "I'm not ready to turn my prize over just yet."

The greenish-blue Andolisn slides forward further, moving as if his joints are on oiled pivots.  "The deal was that we pick up you, a device, and the human female.  No time stipulations were given."

"Montidulein promised me some time to settle grudges," I snarl.  "This witch has had this coming for a long time."

The Andolisn sighs irritably, but finally nods.  "Very well.  You have twenty minutes, and that should be more than enough time for a Saiyan!"

I nod reluctantly, biting back the urge to destroy them. There were too many of them for one combatant, and I'm sure that they won't bother fighting fair.  "This should keep you amused while I'm working," I growl at the alien as I toss Bulma's machine at him.  I'm not worried about getting it back; once the rest of the fighters get here and we have an even fight, none of Montidulein's men will leave alive.

Now, the hard part.  Bulma and I have to delay them until the others get here.  I pull the first aid kit out of my belt and lie down next to Bulma.  I know that I am putting my back to the enemy, but I can't let them seeing what I'm doing to her.  Propped up on one arm, I crack the smelling salts open and wave them under her nose.

With a gag and a grimace, she comes to.  Before she can say anything, I throw the salts away and put my hand over her mouth.  "Play along, woman," I hiss quietly at her.  "You're in danger here, and you must do as I say."

Reaching up, she tugs on the hand covering her mouth.  I hope that she'll be quiet, and I let her pull my hand down.  "What the hell is going on?" she whispers to me.  "Why did you drug me?"

"To make Montidulein think that I was going to kidnap you for him, and lure him into a trap," I answer.  "Unfortunately, it has hit a hurdle."

"What?"

"His men are early, and he's not here," I growl to her.

"So we're screwed," she snaps at me.  "What a brilliant plan!"  

"Hush.  And I'm pretending to have my way with you to buy time until the others get here," I continue, ignoring her last outburst.

She looks sharply at me.  "I thought that you could take them all, oh mighty Prince," she hisses.

I grab her wrists and roll so that she is ensnared under me, her arms trapped above her head.  I am rewarded by a gasp from her and a wide-eyed stare.  Whoops and cheers greet me from up the corridor.  "I could," I growl as I shoot a glare at them, "if they would fight me one at a time, or even three at a time.  But there are at least nine, and probably more outside.  I could probably still take them, even against those odds, but the cost would be high."  I don't tell her that the resulting battle would probably kill her, either from an unattended combatant taking her out or a widely-thrown energy blast.

"So you have to pretend you're raping me, huh?" she asks, her voice still soft, but now filled with a touch of humor.

I frown down at her, worried about her sudden change in emotion.  "Actually, I'm pretending to scare you," I answer carefully, hoping that is the right answer.  I drop my head to just above her shoulder, hoping that the men watching won't be able to see what I'm doing – or not doing in this case.

"Hmm," she replies, her eyes shining with merriment.  My gut twists with nervousness as she suddenly wails, "Please, Vegeta, no!"  I flinch; to me, she seems to be overdoing it, but the watchers further up the cave cheer enthusiastically again.

"Do you mind?" I bellow at them as I raise my head to glare at them again.

"No!" one shouts back but the Andolisn replies, "Just move a bit further back, if you don't want us to watch.  Though to be honest, I didn't think that monkeys minded rutting in public like animals."

I seethe as I remain still over Bulma.  I have to remember to wait just a short time until I can wipe his face in those words.  I rise up and jerk Bulma to her feet with one hand around both her wrists.  "Ow!" she snaps, and I merely stare at her blandly, funneling my anger into my gaze at her.  I kick the bed lightly, shoving it deeper into the cave, away from the watching eyes and closer still to the ladder.  As I start to kick it again, the Andolisn shouts, "Far enough back, Saiyan."

"Hey!" another one shouts.  "Let me know if you need some help, monkey!"

"Like I'd pick an ugly asshole like you over a prince," Bulma shouts at him.  I open my mouth to silence her, but one of Montidulein's men cuts me off.

The same hairy alien answers her.  "Don't knock it until you've had it," he replies, grabbing his crotch and making obscene gestures at her.  "Besides, are you sure you want a monkey?"

Bulma turns to me and, twisting her still-held arms out of her way, leans into me, kissing me.  

*----------*----------*

Oh, my!  Oh, my!  Poor, confused Saiyan!

Next chapter will be up sometime this weekend.


	6. Part 1, Chapter 6

I hope this chapter satisfies all of you who were so irritated with the stopping point I had selected.  Enjoy!

Say, did anyone figure out what I had changed in Chapter 1?  I haven't had any bites yet, so seriously, if you know, you could get a custom-tailored story out of it.

*----------*----------*

Bulma turns to me and, twisting her still-held arms out of her way, leans into me, kissing me.  Shocked, I can only stand frozen as she moves her lips against mine.  Finally, after too long and too short of a time, she pulls away and shouts up the corridor, "If all monkeys are as good as he is, then yes!"

Our watchers howl with glee, and, thankfully, the one seems to drop the conversation.  I do hear another yell, "I knew that she was protesting too hard!"

"What are you doing?" I growl at her once I've recovered.  

"Playing up," she whispers with a giggle.

"Well, don't!" I hiss at her.  "This is hard enough for me as it is!"

Anger flares into her eyes and face, but a second later only her eyes show her temper; her face is turned up in a seductive smile.  "Sorry I'm not good enough for you, _Prince_!" she hisses.

I'm suddenly very tired of this protracted game, and want only to bull through it and be done.  I release her arms and scoop her up into a carry, then dump her on the bed.  Putting my body between her and our watchers, I lie down and cover us both with a blanket.

"You're still wearing your armor," she says and reaches for the buckle on it.

"You're not helping!" I growl as loudly as I dare at her.  "We need to delay as long as we can."

"But they have to buy it too," she answers softly, undoing the straps.  "So off goes the armor."

Disgruntled, I toss the armor across the cave, listening to it clack into the darkness.  "Happy?"

"Gloves too, and then I will be," she murmurs to me, running her hands over my shoulders.

"Woman," I moan and she looks at me sharply, obviously startled by the dual pleading and warning in my voice.

For a second, I think she'll relent, but then she grabs the middle finger of each glove and yanks on them. "Gloves off!" she insists as they slide away from my hands.  I could have stopped them, but I seem powerless to protest her desire to remove the clothing between us.  I try to remember that she's just playing, but the desire that is building in me is too great.  To help my temptation, I dig my fingers into the mattress, feeling them sink in to the first knuckle.

Next, she reaches up and touches my hair.  I hold myself still, afraid to move or start anything. If I touch her, I might lose control.  If I don't, I may go mad.  "Interesting texture," she murmurs as she runs her fingers through it.  "Stiffer than Goku's."

The mention of Kakkarot's hated earth-name makes me tremble with jealously.  "How do you know what his hair feels like?" I snarl angrily, visions of her rubbing her fingers over his locks as she is doing to mine now dance in my mind.

She rolls her eyes at me.  "I met him when he was barely out of diapers.  He needed a bath and had never been introduced to soap.  Chill," she answers.  She leans up and sniffs my shoulder.  "But you bathe.  You smell like home."

"I use your parents' soap," I answer, trying to remove the heat from my voice.

"And like I've been curious about your hair, I've also been curious about this," she murmurs, and kisses me again.  I want to break it; we are on uncharted ground now and I don't know where it is going.  But the pretense is needed, and I let her continue to kiss me – not true.  I join the kissing with an zeal born of long-held desire and need.

She pulls back from me, a content smile on her face.  "And the third thing has been satisfied too," she murmurs, and I frown down at her.

"What?"

"This," she hisses, and thrusts her hips against me.   I had known that I was aroused by her touch, but such an intimate movement takes my breath away with a gasp.  "You _are_ a red-blooded male, you seemingly cold-hearted prince."

"You belong to Yamcha," I growl, surprising myself with my continued chivalry.

"I thought that you might take advantage of this situation," she murmurs, quirking an eyebrow at me.  

I blink at her, unsure of what to make of that statement.  "Not really, woman," I say, somehow keeping my voice flat and calm.

Anger flares again in her eyes, and she snaps, "Sorry I'm not a Saiyan, Your Majesty!  Sorry that I'm just a lowly human, Your Highness!  Sorry that you can barely stand to touch me, Your Ass-ness!"

Every word is exciting me; every snarl is a come-on.  With a growl, I kiss her and roll her under me again, my hands stroking her sides as the small part of me that still has control is careful where I touch her.

"Vegeta," she whispers when I stop, her voice trembling slightly as she strokes my hair.  She doesn't say anything more, and I notice the distant ki signatures, closing on our location.

"Scream, woman," I hiss.  "The others are closing, and I want you to provide a distraction for them."

Bulma throws her head back and screams wordlessly as I thrust my clothed hips against hers under the blankets; I can only imagine how bad this would look to Yamcha.  The hoots from the watchers climax and now I hear the discussions of bets.

The cave entrance explodes with sudden light, and I cradle Bulma beneath me as much as possible.  When the burning and the rumbling ends, I yank her up and push her toward the ladder, yelling, "Climb out and hide!  We'll find you after!"

I take only long enough to see that she is obeying me before I turn toward the battle, an eager grin covering my face.  I see Kakkarot blasting away at the bulk of the Tr'dalack while his brat is covering his back, his face tight with concentration.  I have only time to see Krillan and Piccolo fighting side-by-side when I hear Bulma scream behind me.  I twist and dash back to her.

She is wrapped in a curtain of living shadow, and I curse as I belatedly recognize a Kriskark, the legendary Shadow-wraithes.  Insubstantial creatures of darkness, they don't fully exist in this world, which makes them hard to hit.  Sometimes they are there when your fists touch them; sometimes they are not there, and your strike passes through them harmlessly like through smoke.  The best way to fight them is with an area attack, but he's holding Bulma within him.

I see her form go fuzzy and insubstantial in the dark cloudiness of the Kriskark's body; I know that some of the old legends claim that Kriskarks can pull people into their shadow-land with them.  "Bulma!" I shout, as I realize that the old legends must be true.  With horror, I realize that I don't know how to stop it, or how to save her.

I do the only thing that comes to mind; I leap for her fading body, reaching for her through the creature.  For a horrible second, I think that I'm too late, that I've passed through them both, when one of my reaching hands grabs what feels like a cotton shirt.  I close my hand and pull it toward me, grabbing the body within when it reaches me.

It is Bulma, shaking and screaming as the forces of the Kriskark rip at her, trying to remove her from this world.  "Hold on!" I scream to her.  "Don't let go of me!"  And I focus on keeping in touch with the earth as I cling to her, and she to I.

I think of her mostly; she is the only thing of joy to be found here for me.  I picture her standing in front of the unfinished gravity room, her face set in a proud scowl as the sun lights her hair with highlights of blue flame.  I envision her bouncing down the stairs, her face beaming as she greets someone – I pretend it is me.  I see her bent over her computer, her face as focused and serious as any warriors' in battle.  And I see her, safe, here on her home.

The world breaks into painful shards, and Bulma and I scream together as the world fades further for both of us.  I do the only thing I can think of, my last resort; I pour chi into my aura, pulling up and releasing energy as fast as I can.  The world shatters again, but it seems closer, as suddenly my vision flashes with gold.  I feel my power soar, but I relentlessly shove it out, pulling more from within, desperate in a way that I have never been before.  The world fragments again in a blinding sparkle of gold, and I release all of my power in one mighty blow.

All is dark, but I can feel her in my arms, and that is all that matters.   I try to blink, but I realize that my eyes are shut; opening them, I see the cave.  Did I do it?  I try to move, but my arm refuses, feeling as if I have no strength.  Suddenly a hand grabs my shoulder and pulls me onto my back, and my fear for Bulma finds the strength to raise my hand, glowing with a tiny amount of chi power.

Kakkarot throws his hands into the air and says, "Whoa, Vegeta!  I'm just trying to help you."

"I don't need your help," I grind out, ashamed to hear how weak my voice sounds.  Bulma is cold and still, and I only know she is alive because her heart beats against my chest.  "Can you get her out of my way?  Her weak body probably needs a doctor."

"And you don't," Krillan says from behind Kakkarot.  His tone is sarcastic.  

I ignore him as Kakkarot lifts her out of my arms.  Then, staring at Krillan, I pull myself to my feet.  "No, I don't," I say pointedly.  My voice sounds stronger, too.

"You came close," Kakkarot says suddenly, nodding at me.  "Next time, you'll have it."

I sneer at him, but my heart jumps with hope.  There is only one thing that he can mean.

"You saved her!" Kakkarot's brat shouts with a grin.  "You're a hero, Vegeta."

I glare at him, prepared to put him in his place, when Krillan speaks up.  "I guess you are, at that," he says.  "Thanks for saving my friend."  His voice is reluctant, but there is gratitude there, too.

I snort derisively and stomp away to the battle-torn cave entrance.  But the brat's words ring in my head, "You saved her!", and I can feel nothing but relieved pride, and a bone-deep tiredness that I haven't felt since I was a child.

A shadow falls over me.  I look up with a sense of trepidation, expecting to see Montidulein or one of his men.  All that fills my vision is the business end of a chi blast.  I raise my arm to snap it away, but I can tell before I've begun to move that I'm going to be too slow.  My existence flares into a blinding, burning heat, and then all is dark.

When I wake up, she is gone.

*----------*----------*

End of Part I – tune in again for the exciting Part II!                       


	7. Interlude 1

This suddenly came to me – I guess it was inspired.  I hope that you enjoy…

Just a warning, a change of POV…

Oh, and I've cleaned it up.  A lot.  Enjoy.

Interlude

I didn't know when I lost her. All I know is that one day, I saw her laugh at him, and I realized that I had a rival – and that I was way behind in the game.

What the hell could she see in him?  Him, the cold-blooded murder of billions – no, trillions! – of lives!  For that matter, why is Goku so defensive of him?  If I or any other person had done what Vegeta had admitted to so proudly, then Goku would fry us without a second thought.  But no, Vegeta gets a second chance, and Vegeta gets to live with Bulma!

But I am content to let all that be, to be the adult in this situation. He cannot have Bulma without a fight, though; she means too much to me to let some asshole just walk away with her.

Perhaps it is all those thoughts that urge me to check on Bulma.  Something about the errand that Goku had given me seemed wrong.  Nothing specific, just somehow off.  Off enough that I'm now creeping up to her room to double-check on her.

Funny, Gohan's not at his post outside her door.  Is he on the balcony?  I reach for her doorknob and then pause.  She hates for me to go into her room; she doesn't want me to be scared away by how messy she is, or so she says.  As if some crap on the floor would chase me away from her.

If I check on her and she's in trouble, she won't be upset, I reason.  And if she's not in trouble, and she gets mad, at least I'll know she's ok.   I turn the knob and open the door.

Vegeta is in her room, holding her limp body in his arms.  I see her device on his belt, and my stomach clenches with rage.  He's has finally shown his true colors and betrayed us!

"You bastard!" I yell, and my heart now twists with fear as Bulma remains still.  What has he done to her?

With an alien curse, the Saiyan leaps out the window, flying hard to the west.  I start to follow, then hesitate.  I can't take Vegeta.  But I can't leave Bulma, I have to do something!  With my own curse, I follow.

I have to stop him from taking her.  "But how?" I hiss to myself as I race after him.  In a fight, he'll win and we both know it.  If only I were stronger, or he didn't have Bulma—

An idea comes to me, so simple and yet so awful.  If he didn't have Bulma, then he wouldn't be able to turn her over to the aliens he's working for.  I can't take Vegeta, but I can take Bulma.  My eyes fill with stinging tears.  Could I do it?  Could I kill her to save her?

She could come back with the use of the Dragonballs.  And she's unconscious, so she wouldn't feel it, right?  Could I do it?  Can I be brave enough to let go of her?

Vegeta appears ahead of me, hovering, Bulma held closely in front of him.  I growl with rage as I realize that he's using her as a shield, one arm wrapped under her breasts to keep her up.  He's practically _begging_ me to do it.  

Maybe I should oblige him.

I slam to a quick stop in front of him.  "I won't let you get away with this, Vegeta," I scream at him as I draw myself in the fighting stance.  I have to be quick – no second thoughts, no hesitation.  I'll only have one shot; I can't let thoughts of who my target is stop me!

I can't look at her.  My heart is trembling in my chest, trying to both beat and tear itself in two.  I have to do this; I can't let him have her!  I have to be as strong and as ruthless as he!

"Careful," he rasps in that hateful snarl of a voice.  "You can't fight me without risking Bulma."   I want to drive my fist into his face.  But I have to drive it into Bulma first. 

I can't do this.  This is Bulma.  But my voice, powerful and sure, hisses out, "I know I can't beat you in a fight.  But I can stop your plans."  My hands call the chi to them, feeling the burning sensation of power strobe down my arms to my hands.  _I'm sorry, babe_.

I throw everything I can at her.  For one second, I think I've got him, but he spins around and my blast sears his back.  The blast fades, and I see that he must have diverted his shields to cover her; his back is black and blistered.

Then he tosses her up in the air.  My eyes follow her, and as I start to think about catching her, something slams into my face, and I fall from the sky.

I don't pass out, not even when the branches from the trees rake my back as I fall through them.  Despite the fact that they slow me a little, I still crash into the hard earth painfully, knocking the wind from my lungs.

How long exactly I lie there, panting, trying to breathe again, I don't know.  But finally I'm strong enough to stand up and then shakily take off after Vegeta's chi signature.  I ache all over, but I can't let that stop me.  I have to stop him, somehow!

I draw close to a mountain, and I swoop low, my eye catching sight of a cave.  The fates are with me; Vegeta is stumbling from the cave, his steps unsteady despite his ramrod straight back.  With a snarl, I gather my chi and fling my blast at him.

The blast catches him hard in the chest, and I'm pleased to see him drop and not get up.

Heh, what do you know?  The Mighty Prince of All Saiyans falls flat on his face, just like any other person.

I draw forth another blast, preparing to send him beyond.  Goku flies out of the cave, shouting, "Yamcha, stop!"  I gasp with relief and joy to see Bulma safely in his arms.  Then his words register with me.

"Stop?  Are you nuts, Goku?" I cry.  "He tried to kidnap her and give her to those aliens!  I saw him."

"No, Yamcha," Goku shakes his head at me, his disappointed frown as harsh a blow as his words.  "We had a plan.  Vegeta saved her life."

I die inside, and in that instant, I know that I've lost her forever.  I can and will keep fighting for her, but I know then that she's changed him into the person she and Goku want him to be.  All my efforts were in vain; I have lost the prize of my heart, and the only treasure worth keeping.


	8. Part 2, Chapter 1

Continuation!  Finally, I post again.  I know that many of you have been waiting for another update – my humblest apologies as I'm getting ready to return to school, hoping my cat isn't sick, praying my house doesn't have termites and working forty hours a week at a university during orientation week.  I is busy, and usually tired at night.  But I will finish, as I have said I would.

I need sleep, can you tell?

Oh, and another switch in POV.

*----------*----------*

Prince of All, Part Two

I wake up somewhere strange, and for a horrible moment, I can't remember how I got here.  Then it floods back – Monti-who-ever and his Black Ass Silliness, Vegeta drugging me, waking up in the cave, and that eternal darkness that wrapped me in pain and shadows.

I stare at the round roof over me, and slowly realize that I'm in my hovercraft – the big one that I use after a fight to get all the wounded home.  But judging by the way I feel I'm one of the wounded this time.  

A dark figure with inhuman hair leans over my right side, and I try unsuccessfully to refocus on it.  "Vegeta?" I hazard a guess.

"Great," a familiar voice answers off to my left, so filled with bitterness that I doubt it's really him.  "The first word out of her mouth is that asshole's name."

"Yamcha?" I moan, trying to sit up, squinting.  The figure to my right leans closer and my eyes finally focus on Goku's concerned, relieved face.

"Take it easy," he murmurs as he gently pushes me back down, a position to which I'm only too happy to return.  "You took quite a beating."

"I did?" I ask.  I reach up and touch a bruise on his forehead that turns into a scrape down his nose.  "I hope I don't look as bad as you."

"You look better than me," he chuckles.  "You always look better than me, even when you look worse."

I grin weakly and drop my arm – it feels incredibly heavy, and I 'm not Vegeta, so I don't have to pretend I'm fine.

Vegeta!  

_Vegeta screams my name as he fades from me…  Arms, his arms around me, holding me as I cling to him…  Whispering, "See her by the gravity room…  See her coming down the stairs, smiling…  See her at her computer…  See her here, on her home…"_

"What happened to Vegeta?" I ask.  He's the last thing I remember, and I don't see him.  Goku leans back and I see Vegeta lying motionless on blankets on the other side of him.  "Oh, god," I moan in sympathy, my eyes noting his injuries.  His entire body is covered with a nasty gray residue; looks like he was dipped him in liquid smoke and let air dry.  But the worse injury is the blast that has blackened his chest and neck – it looks like he took a chi blast dead on.  "Will he be ok?"

"He'll be fine," Goku reassures me, his voice tense.  I look up at him, to see him shooting an unreadable glance at Yamcha, who scowls as darkly as Vegeta out the back of the hovercar.

"All right," I growl as I make a second attempt to sit up.  "What the hell is going on?"

"What do you mean?" Goku asks me with a big, uncomfortable grin.  I'm not comforted; it's his 'I-ate-all-the-cookies-please-don't-kill-me' grin.  His hands start to restrain me, but I knock him away and struggle upright.  Or rather, he lets me knock him away, and sit upright.

"I mean, the last thing I remember is Vegeta fighting that big smoky thing," I groan as I prop myself against the seat back behind me.  I decide not to mention how he was fighting it – why upset Yamcha more?  "Then I wake up here, get growled at for trying to piece the last bits I remember with my present circumstances, and now Goku is making the serious face at Yamcha.  So don't tell me nothing is going on."

The men are silent for a moment, and then Goku says, "The plan that Vegeta and I had formulated required secrecy.  Some people reacted unexpectedly."

Yamcha blurts out, "In other words, I nearly screwed it all up because no one told me what was going on!"

"I'm sorry about that," Goku replies, "but I already told you why you weren't informed."

"Yeah, at least you didn't get chloroformed," I snort, trying to keep the tone light.  Yamcha doesn't smile – if anything, my little jest only darkens his scowl further.  Suddenly the pieces fall together and I say aloud, "You hurt Vegeta, trying to protect me, didn't you?"

Yamcha meets my eyes for the first time, and I see how tortured they are, drowning in some dark, guilty emotion.  "I almost," his voice chokes on whatever he's saying and he has to start again, fighting an emotional quiver to continue, "I almost killed—"  He suddenly leans into me, putting his head on my shoulder, and hugs me tightly as the sobs come.  

"Shh," I murmur as I hug him back and stroke his hair, looking helplessly at Goku, more than a little confused.  "It's ok, baby."  Since when has Yamcha been broken up over Vegeta possibly dying?

Goku looks incredibly sad, but resolute at the same time.  For the first time that I can remember, my childhood friend is a closed book to me, as if there is something that he must hide from me.

Fear washes over me as I realize that something important happened today, something that changed everything, and no one wants to tell me what it is.

*  *  *

The doctor gives me a clean bill of health after four maddening hours of check-ups.  Vegeta had already been seen to and medicated as much as he could be without killing him, or so the doctors have decided.  His sedated, battered body is lying quietly in the Capsule clinic.

When I finally find a mirror, I discover that I am covered in the same smoky scum as Vegeta.  It is completely dry, and flakes off if any pressure is applied to it.  I almost simply shower it away, but the scientific part of me insists that I save at least one sample.  It is easy enough to secure a vial of the gray flakes and then I gladly clean up.

The heat and stream revitalize me, and I step out, feeling like a new woman.  Unfortunately, I still have all the same old problems.  Squaring my shoulders, I go in search of answers.

Yamcha is the first stop; he is waiting for me downstairs in the living room, patient through all the checkups and cleanups.  "Hey," I murmur as I walk into the room.

"Bulma," he whispers and jumps to his feet to hug me.  I bask in his love and concern, trying to gather my thoughts to better present my question.  

"Yamcha," I start, but he tenses in my arms at my tone.  "What?"

Yamcha pulls back from my arms to look me deeply in the eyes.  "Don't ask, baby," he says softly.  "I'm sorry, baby, please don't ask me today."  He grins, a strangely unhappy expression, as he continues, "Hey, I know!  Let's go out to dinner together, to celebrate another win for the good guys!"

"Ok, but who won it?" I ask relentlessly.

Rage passes over his features, startling me.  "You can't leave it alone, can you?" he snaps, flinging one arm out, as if he wants to stop touching me, but can't really decide.  "You just keep digging, don't you?"

"Yamcha!  I was unconscious and I wake up in Bizzaro-land!" I shout in answer, stomping my foot to let him know I am really upset.  "Goku's all serious, you're all moody, and Vegeta's peaceful – unconscious but peaceful!  And no one will tell me anything!"

"Well, I'll tell you one thing, lady," Yamcha growls as he drops his grip on my arm.  "You're having dinner alone!"  He doesn't wait for me to reply, but turns to leave.  

"Fine!" I scream at his back.  "I'd rather eat with the unconscious Saiyan than you right now anyway!"

He turns at that, and I draw back from the look on his face.  Rage, shame, and despair all fly across his face, and I'm left shaking by the turbulent emotions radiating from him.  With a final growl, he dashes away from me, leaving me trembling still.

I drop onto the couch, holding my arms as I quiver in delayed fear.  I can never remember Yamcha looking at me like that before; it is very frightening to see that look on that beloved face.  Finally, I can move without a fine tremor, and I stand up, all the more determined to find out what the hell is going on here.  My boyfriend is acting like a madman, Goku is hiding things from me, and Vegeta the psychopath saved my life.  My world is turned upside down, and I intend to set it upright.

*  *  *

Setting my life upright has to wait though. My father has a task for me, and a quick scan of the blueprints reveals that it will be at least eighty hours of work.  I sigh and ask him, "Can't this wait a bit?"

My father glances at me over the papers he's reading.  "Now Bulma, I almost never ask you to set your life aside for one of my tasks, but this is very important," he says pointedly.  "I really need this done as soon as possible."

Guiltily, I agree.  I dig in, trying to get the project done so that I can get back to my important tasks.  I'm two days into the project when I realize that I haven't heard from anyone.  The realization catches me up short.  I was nearly removed from this world, and had been pretty shaky when everyone had seen me last, and no one had called to check on me?

"Something's wrong," I growl and race over to the workstation's phone.  I pick the receiver and am about to dial when Goku's voice over the line stops me.

"Did it work?" he asks, sounding worried.

"Yes," my father's somber voice answers, "now will you tell me what this is all about?"

"I'd like to, sir," Goku said apologetically, "but I can't really say that Bulma would appreciate me telling you what's going on."

"Well, son," my father replies, "when are you going to tell her so that I can stop lying to my daughter?"  My eyes bug with rage, but I hold my tongue.  I want to hear this answer.

"Soon," Goku sighs.  "I do appreciate what you're doing, Mr. Briefs.  I swear to you that it's for her own good."

"Really?" I shriek into the phone.  "I don't think that lying to me constitutes as for my own good!"

"Bulma!" Goku hoots in surprise.  "How—"

"Same house, same phone line, same Saiyan in big trouble!" I shout.  

My father speaks up.  "I'll let you two talk this out."  The line clicks once, and all I can hear is Goku's panicked breathing.

"Now what the hell is going on?" I shout into the phone.  The line clicks dead.  "Goku!  Goku, get your Saiyan ass back on this phone!" I scream into the line, too enraged to believe that he had actually hung up on me.  When I don't get an answer and the reality registers, I shriek with fury and throw the phone down.  I stomp at full speed to my desk and snatch up my fastest capsule hovercar.  Racing onto my yard, I click the top and toss it to the ground.  My beloved XR-5000 appears, and I jump in.

Despite the fact that it is Goku who had set me off, Yamcha's house is closer than that hump of land that Goku and family called home.  I head to him first, determined that I was going to get to the bottom of this.  

I dash up the walk of his house and pound on the door.  "Minute!" Yamcha calls and the door swings open.  I gape at my boyfriend, shocked beyond words at his disheveled appearance.  I quickly shut my mouth as the scent of booze oozes from him.  "Bulma!"

"Good guess," I hiss at him.  "I'm glad to see that you haven't forgotten my name while you weren't visiting me!"  I start to push past him, but he holds firm.  Fine, I can have this discussion in full view of his neighbors if that's what he wants!

"You're my firlgriend, not my warden," he snaps, or rather tries to snap.  There is nothing quick or sharp about him tonight.

"No, right now, I'm your worst nightmare," I shout at him, pleased to see noisy Ms. Clackclock's curtains twist aside.  "What the hell is going on?"

"Go 'way, Bulmie," Yamcha exhales, sagging against the doorframe with effort.  "Go back to your monkey."

"Oh, no, you don't!" I shout, grabbing his arm to keep him from falling, his neighbors forgotten.  "We're not fighting about the fact that Vegeta saved me and you didn't because that is not what it is about!"

"Isn't it?" he slurs staring at me.  His eyes are glazed with alcohol, but they are full of conviction.  "Veggie was faster than Yamchie and Bulmie wants him – Veggie, now."  He pulls a nearby bottle off his table and sloshes some more alcohol back.  The look of distain that he's giving me robs me of my voice.  "Bulmie always wants the best man, and Yamchie's not the best."

"Yamcha, you ass," I seethe, finally finding my voice.  "Vegeta saved my life!  Am I grateful? Yes!  But that doesn't mean that I want him!"

"You've always wanted him," Yamcha says softly, "I'm just too sober normally to see it."  His eyes are calm and his voice resolute, but I gather my anger for one last try.

"I want you," I half-growl, half-sigh, "though that could change if you don't put down the bottle."

"And I want you," he sighs and sags more in the doorway.  "I want you to be happy, and I won't make you happy."

"Not when you're drinking, no!"  The conversation is getting too deep, too serious, and I rely on my oldest weapon – decisive action and orders.  Planting my hands on my hips, I say, "Yamcha, I'm going to put you to bed and we can talk about this later.  In fact, when Vegeta's up, we can have another picnic, in _both_ your honors, for saving me.  How does that sound?"

Yamcha hauls himself to his feet, swaying slightly.  "There's just one problem with that," he grunts.

"What?" I keep my tone even and cordial somehow.  I should get a medal for dealing with this man!

"I tried to kill you," he answers, an ironic half-smile touching his features.  While I stand there in shock, he slams the door shut in my face.

"Yamcha?" I call through the door when I've gathered myself somewhat.  "What did you mean?  Please talk to me."

"No!" he hollers.  "Go away; fly away to the guy who saved you from me.  Go fly to your monkey."

I plead for ten minutes, but Yamcha will not open the door.  Finally, even I have to admit defeat, and I walk slowly to my car, shock numbing my emotions and the world.  

I don't cry until I remember that he's never denied me anything else before.  And now, when it matters most, he denies me his heart.

*----------*----------*

I hope to post soon – see you all in a couple of days…  _Hate it?  Enjoy it?  Let me know!_


	9. Part 2, Chapter 2

Hello all! Thanks for all the reviews – you all have been very kind.  Love you all!

*----------*----------*

I don't cry until I remember that he's never denied me anything else before.  And now, when it matters most, he denies me his heart.

*  *  *

I can't cry too long – I have way too much to do.  So I find myself driving not toward Goku's house but toward Master Roshi's island.  Goku can deny me day in and day out, but Krillan is putty in my hands, and I know that I can beat the answers out of him, if necessary.  I'm hoping all I have to do is scream at him for a while; I don't want to break any nails.

But I'm foiled there too; when I arrive, Master Roshi is resting alone on the beach. "Well, hello, young thing!" he practically drools at me, and I choke back a retort.  I need to be nice long enough to find Krillan.

"Hello, Master Roshi!" I call and wave to him.  His grin widens exponentially, and my stomach clenches at his leer.  

Suddenly, his face pinches in on itself in suspicion.  "You're never that nice to me, young lady, unless you want something."

"You're too smart for me," I grin at him, and I see the suspicion waver, battling with his incorrigible lust.  

"All right, what is it?" he grumps at me.

"Where's Krillan?" I ask, my voice dropping its syrupy sweetness as I turn business-like.

"You just missed him," Master Roshi says.  "Took off that-a-way," he points out over the ocean, "like the hounds of hell were after him.  But it must have just been you."

I grimace at him, more irritable than ever.  Yamcha's drunk, Krillan's AWOL, which means I'm just going to have to try my luck with Goku.  "Thanks, you beastly old man," I sing-song as I climb back into the car.

"Anytime you want to let me drool at you, you're welcome to come by," he answers.

"Then I'll be sure to wear my full-body habit, next time," I reply as the car powers up and lifts away.  I see his mouth move with a reply as I lift off, but from the way he's wagging his eyebrows, I'm just as glad that I can't hear it.

I've only flown a few miles when I realize that there is another place with answers.  And while I've never sought help there personally, whatever was going on was large enough for Kami's help, wasn't it?  Only one way to know – I set course for the House of Kami.

I can just see the spire ahead of me when the car bucks violently and a loud boom roars.  All is chaos for an eternal moment, until the airbags erupt, filling the cockpit.  Pinned into my inflated safety device, I can only howl with fear and outrage as the hovercar falls.  I can tell I am descending rapidly, for my ears are popping madly.  

One loud, permanent crash echoes through the cockpit, and all is silent.  Except for me, that is, once I try to move.  Just twisting my head to the left to try to see what is around causes a spike of pain to shoot down my back.  I don't bother to bite back a yelp of pain – no one is here to make fun of me, namely Vegeta. 

After a long minute, the airbags decompress, and I pull myself out of the car awkwardly.  My back hurts with each movement, and I hiss through my teeth as I stumble around to the back of the craft to see what caused the crash.

I see the damage and stop, frozen with fear.  The back of my hovercar is a twisted, charred mess; only Dad's ingenious engineering and safety back-ups kept the car from dropping like a rock.  But the most frightening part is that the damage was done by a chi blast.  

My heart is pounding in my throat now.  Someone attacked me; someone is trying to kill me.  Vegeta, the only killer I know, is unconscious in the hospital; Yamcha is home drunk; Krillan is avoiding me; and Goku is unreachable.  Hell, if I could call any of them, none of them would answer the phone if they knew it was me!  Damn them, some friends!

I took a deep breath to calm and collect myself.  Whoever shot me down will probably come looking for me.  I have to leave the car, which will be easily seen from the air.  But I can't just mindlessly run either.

I pull my purse out of the wreckage of my beloved car.  For just a second, I'm actually overwhelmed by its loss – not because I can't get another but because that was my car!  I built it from a kit when I was seventeen; it was my baby, tweaked to my specifications and set to my desires.  If I can find some way to swing it, some possible avenue to do it, I'm going to get the son ova bitch who put a chi blast into it.

Then I'm running slowly through the woods, picking up speed as my back slowly unknots.  Thank god I wasn't seriously injured; otherwise, this would be impossible.  After five minutes, I stop and lean against a nearby tree, panting.  It was time to start pulling out capsules and saving my own ass, because Vegeta and the boys aren't coming this time.

The first thing I pull out is my scanner and tool kit.  Five minutes of fiddling, and I have adjusted it so that I can sense the chi's around me.  What I see when I activate it and extend its range almost makes me give up. 

Five dots circle around my position, working in toward my general area in a tight spiral.  They could be friends, but given how everyone is avoiding me, I don't think it's likely.  The next thing out of my bag is a scent-masking agent.  I don't know that they're tracking by smell, but they could, and I won't be caught for something as simple as that.

The last thing I remove from my capsule is one of Capsule Corps's newest experiments.  It looks like a full wetsuit, but it is far more than that.  The skin of the suit refracts heat, rendering me invisible to infrared vision.  Since part of the refracted heat is light, it makes me harder to see to the naked eye.  Unfortunately, it has to have a closed air system so that the heat from my breath won't give me away; a system that looks – and sounds – like a gas mask.  Within seconds, I feel claustrophobic as all heck, listening to the hiss of my own breathing and the thud of my blood in my veins.  But I'd rather be claustrophobic than dead, so I cope.

Now the part that is hardest for me.  I begin to move away keeping under the trees and moving slowly, easily.  The radar held before me, I start to work my way out of this mess, using the radar to figure out when I have to stop and hide.  Only once do I see a pursuer – a large, powerful-looking humanoid flying overhead with green skin and a crest of small yellow horns.

I'm beginning to think that I've made it away, when all of the blips on the radar turn toward me.  With a gasp, I pick up speed, hoping that it's just an ugly coincidence.  But as they get closer, I can't deny that they're closing on me; they're fanning out, the two furthest out swinging wide before turning in so that they're perpendicular to me.

I have one weapon, a sort of chi tazer.  It won't put Vegeta or Goku down, but it is strong enough that I hope that I can use it here.  The problem?  It is a one-shot-at-a-time item – I'll have to reload, and I have no illusions as to whether I'll get to reload.  

One shot, and five targets; I have to choose who'll I'll go for.  I use the radar to single out the most powerful – the signature of that creature is a baby compared to Goku at his best, and I still have hope that the chi tazer will disable it.

The creatures land in the open area just ahead of me; I hold myself stock still, pretending that I am part of the tree I hide behind. Based on what the scanner is telling me, I find the strongest, a frail, cat-looking thing balancing on hind legs.  I carefully aim, and wait for my moment.

The tazer pops out with a soft _puft_ noise, and the wires sizzle and snap as the cat-creature screams and spasms.  I only have a second to enjoy it, because the closest creature to me takes three giant steps and strikes me with its fist.

I go down like the non-combatant I am, hitting the packed dirt of the forest floor hard.  Hands grab my arms, and I am just aware enough to vainly struggle against them as they lift me.  Someone yanks roughly at the hood of my suit, and quickly strip it away, letting us see each other face-to-face.

"Dordock's dead," the alien that isn't helping hold me says.  The two holding my arms stare and blink at their companion in disbelief.  The one in front of me, a tall, burly brown humanoid, snarls and punches me in my stomach.  The pain is immense, and I scream as I try to curl around my injury as best I can with two people holding me.

A hand seizes my hair and yanks my head up painfully.  The brown one growls, "What did you use on him?"

"Fuck.  You," I wheeze out, glaring at him as best I can through my tears of pain.  He draws back his hand to hit me again, when the fourth stops him.  

"Hycik, don't hurt her anymore," the tall, thin creature levitates carefully toward us.  He appears to be a large crystal; he refracts the sunlight in a most disturbing way.  "If you hurt her too badly, she's useless to Master Montidulein."  

"Titles," I groan painfully.  "You aliens always gotta have your fancy titles."  I expect them to ignore me, but the thin creature leans down to look at me as I convulsively cough.  

"The right title makes the man," he replies with a condensing smile, blinding me as the sun bounces off his faceted surface. "Just ask your Saiyan prince."

"I don't claim him," I hiss, but my bravado almost flees when I taste blood in my mouth.

"Does he claim you?" the alien asks, running a finger along the open line of the suit hood.  "Has he tasted your _tzidrah?"_

I wasn't sure what he was talking about, but it sounded nasty.  I open my mouth to retort when my body convulses again and I cough some more blood up.  This time, my captor sees it.

"Knock her out and get her to the med bay," he snaps to the two holding me.  One of them presses something to my arm just I hear him say to the brown alien that hit me, "You'd better hope she fully recovers or Montidulein will have you for breakfast."  Then the world is black, and I fall into it.

*----------*----------*

I'll post again soon.


	10. Part 2, Chapter 3

I'm bowing humbly and begging your forgiveness.  Life is cruel, and I am its hapless pawn.  I hope to post more regularly now – we're in the stretch on this story anyway, and then I have to decide which one to proceed with next.  Review or email me and let me know which of the following you want to see:

The Grand Prix – horses, eventing, and DBZ; what more can you want?  B/V you say?  You got it!

Next story in the "Kiss" series – will Vegeta come home and face the consequences, or will Bulma have to go get him?

Heir To The Empire – A "what if" that is completely AU and definitely not B/V.  Vegeta-sei's queen is a slave in the control of a third-class scientist, and the heir to the empire is a half-breed.  What will happen when he steps forward to claim his birthright – revolution or revolt?

Let me know, or I'll decide, and then you missed your chance to influence events…

*----------*----------*

"Knock her out and get her to the med bay," he snaps to the two holding me.  One of them presses something to my arm just I hear him say to the brown alien that hit me, "You'd better hope she fully recovers or Montidulein will have you for breakfast."  Then the world is black, and I fall into it.

*  *  *

I wake up in a hospital bed.  How do I know it is a hospital, despite the fact that I can't read the strange language on the cabinets?  I know because all hospitals smell the same; a clean, dry smell that barely covers the deeper scent of bodies gone wrong.  And my stomach doesn't feel like someone dropped a building on it.

I try to sit up, only to discover that some asshole has secured me to the bed with some kind of wide leather-like strips.  I growl in anger, wishing I were Vegeta – I could break these easily then.  There are latches on them, but I can't touch one hand to the latches of the other.  I bend down and try to use my mouth, but I quickly have to admit defeat.  They're designed to prevent someone from getting out of them like that.

The door snaps open and the strangely reflective alien walks into the room.  "How do you feel?" he asks me in a polite tone.

"Great, I love being held captive," I snap in reply.  "It is always so much fun."

"Ah, sarcasm," the crystal alien says with false nostalgia.  "Your people are very good at it, you know."

"Thanks," I sneer, trying to work my wrists against the straps unobtrusively.  

"You're quite welcome," the alien answers, smiling, I think.  It's hard to tell; the light bouncing off of him keeps distorting my vision.  "As we're in the complementing stage of negotiation, I should also mention that we find your ingenuity quite remarkable as well, though that trait is more of a personal one for you."

"Negotiation?" I grunt angrily.  "Negotiation involves civilized discussion over tea and crackers with funny-colored junk on them, and no one has served either yet."

"Have you ever been at a negotiation that was for your life, though?" he asks pleasantly, as if he were asking what honey I would like with my biscuits.  "It might not involve tea.  Maybe," he pauses to draw out a rather large knife, "you just haven't experienced this kind of negotiation."

I stare at the knife, unable to take my eyes from it.  "I'm guessing that you're planning to instruct me, though," I reply, and am relieved when he chuckles at my joke, lightening the tension in the room.

"Oh, yes, my dear Bulma," he answers with a slow nod of his head.  "I plan to teach you about this kind of negotiation."

"Oh, don't worry about doing that!" I giggle insanely.  "I'm a self-learner; I really pick things up better when I learn about them on my own."

"Well, if you think so, my dear," he answers benevolently as he puts the knife away.  "Let us move past the complements and threats stages and get straight to business, then.  I have your device, and I want you to make it work on me."

He moves over to a cabinet and opens it, pulling a device out.  One glance tells me that this is not my ki-adjusting device; it takes a long, second glance for me to realize that it's a toaster with the plastic cover stripped off, and a computer's mother board jammed into each slot.  "What the hell is that?" I ask.

"What?" the alien stops bringing it to me and his smile fades.  Instead, anger is growing in his expression.  When he speaks, his voice is trembling with rage, "What do you mean?" 

I hesitate, trying to decide what I can say to appease him.  Before I can figure out much of anything, he pulls his knife and strides to the bed with it raised high.  I shriek in fear, but he just slams it into the bed next to my head.  "No lies, human!" he screams as he shakes the toaster-thing in my face.  "Or next time," he hisses as he holds up some of my hair, cut loose by the knife, "I will cut something that bleeds!"

"It's a toaster that someone modified!" I yelp, praying that he believes me.

"A what?  Is that a weapon?" he growls.

"No," I gasp, certain that this will set him off.  "It brows bread, a food, turns it into toast."

He stares at me, breathing sharply through his nose.  "It is a food preparer?" he finally asks, his voice almost calm.  

I nod frantically, happy that he believes me.  With a sour, alien curse, he turns from me and walks over to a panel on the wall.  Pushing a button, he speaks into it in a course, grinding tongue.  I recognize only one word: Vegeta.

My thoughts fly to the Saiyan Prince.  Is he better?  Is he trying to find me?  Or is he stomping around the house, muttering that his droids weren't fixed or that he had surpassed the Gravity Machine's maximum settings again?  I realize that I might never hear his gruff voice or see that sour scowl again, and I'm washed with a wave of homesickness.

I'm startled to discover that part of me now equates Vegeta with home and safety.  I want nothing more than to see his angry, closed little face glaring at me for some minor infraction, just like all the boys on the playground used to do to the little girls.  Funniest thing was that they did it because they were trying to push the girls away, when really, they were in love.

I shake off the fantasy when my captor hurls the fake machine into a wall with a screamed curse.  I bit my tongue to keep silent, to keep his anger directed anywhere but me.  But with the untimely death of the poor former toaster, I'm the only target in the room.

He spins and walks up to me, leaning over the bed.  "Girl, you'd better hope that they can find that device.  Otherwise, I will make things unpleasant for you."  He smiles, almost sympathetically as he continues, "Now, where did you put it?"

"In my locked cabinet in my lab," I cry desperately.

He grabs the knife, wrenches it out of the bed and slams it back into the mattress.  This time it nicks my ear, and I cut back another yip.  "Liar!" he hisses. "That is where our agent went, and that fake was the only thing in there."  His eyes narrow in suspicion.  "Unless that was the real thing and you tricked me into destroying it.  Which are you, my dear: a lying bitch or a scheming bitch?"

"Dad might have moved it to one of his safe cabinets," I gasp out, my ear stinging from the cut.  

"Then our agents know who to ask now," he murmurs, running a sharp, cold hand down my cheek.  "If we can't find what we seek, that is?  Are you sure you didn't move it?  If we have to ask your father, I doubt he would enjoy the experience very much."

"No," I cry, pulling against my bonds, "I'm not lying.  Please don't hurt my father."

"Don't make us hurt him, dear," the alien replies soothingly.  And then he's gone, leaving me alone in a dark hospital, knife against my trembling ear.  How long they leave me there, I don't know; I quickly lose track of time in the dark room, straining to see or hear anything, jumping when I do.

When the room shakes and shudders and a low boom roars through the air, if feel relief as well as fear.  At least something is happening, and it could even be a rescue!  A wall of the hospital begins to glow red, and I have only a second to turn my head and pull my shoulders up, trying to get some protection from them.  The wall explodes into the room, and I feel dust and debris pelt me lightly.  

I finally glance at the door, afraid of what I'll see.  But the sight that greets my eyes lifts my heart – Yamcha is waving the dust aside as he peers into the room.  "Yamcha!" I scream joyously, and he grins as he sees me.

"Oh, Bulma," he says as he dashes to my side.  "How do you get yourself into these things?"

I laugh, too relieved to get upset at that crack.  We'll talk about it later, over withheld affection and a set of pliers.  "Get me out of here!" I cry, even though he's already fumbling at the latch on my arm.

"Move it, humans!" I hear Vegeta's harsh voice cry.  I look past Yamcha to see him—

I stop, staring at him.  The light is falling from behind him, shadowing his face while highlighting his build.  It flashes through his hair, lighting it on fire.  I realize that I'm gaping at him, but I can't stop.  He's… beautiful.


	11. Part 2, Chapter 4

Ha, bet you didn't expect to see me again, so soon.  But I have surprises—and like I said before, we're in the stretch here.  Be sure you vote for my next project, unless you just don't care.

*-----------*-----------*

I stop, staring at him.  The light is falling from behind him, shadowing his face while highlighting his build.  It flashes through his hair, lighting it on fire.  I realize that I'm gaping at him, but I can't stop.  He's… beautiful. All I can see is a Greek god, a macho man, a sizzling beefcake, not Vegeta the Saiyan asshole.

"Can't you even rescue your woman right?" Vegeta snarls, stepping into the clinic and the moment is gone – only the sour prince with a cold heart is left.  I snap out of my trance, and glance down at Yamcha's hands.  They're shaking like a wet kitten.

"Yamcha?" I murmur.  "What's wrong?"

He looks up at me then.  "I didn't think we'd find you," he whispers, his hands falling still as he meets my eyes.  They're dark with emotion, full of anger, hate, relief – too much feeling swirls madly through them, a whirlpool of emotions.  "I wanted so bad to know you're safe, and now all I can think is I don't deserve this."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Vegeta snaps, jumping to my other side.  "Just break the damn straps if you can't undo them!"  He grasps the strap just below the buckle, and jerks it out of the bed.  I gasp in an automatic reaction, instinctively sure that a motion like that will hurt, but he is so quick and precise that my arm barely moves.

Yamcha stares dumbly at me and then his gaze drops to his hands, which are still shaking.  "Some part of me didn't want to find you," he mutters, shaking his head.  "Then I wouldn't have to face you."

Vegeta snarls and strides around the bed, pushing Yamcha out of the way.  He pulls the other strap out, and yanks me off the table, pushing me at Yamcha.  "Get her out of here!"

"Yamcha, please," I moan, reaching for him, nearly overwhelmed by all that is happening.

"No, you can't trust me," Yamcha murmurs, backing away from us; my hands drop.

"If you don't get her out of here, then you will have killed her," Vegeta growls, pushing me toward him again.  As limp as a doll, I let him push me, but I'm afraid of this stranger before me, this dark man who looks like my Yamcha, but is not.  My Yamcha would save me, fly away with me, pressing me to his chest to keep me safe.

Yamcha steps forward and grabs me, and I flinch.  He stares at me, horror in his eyes, before he begins to pull me out of the room.  "Finally," Vegeta snarls, frustration evident in his voice.  "Get her home."

"_See her here, on her home…"_

"You saved me, Vegeta," I whisper, my voice shaking with shock.  "Before in the cave.  You saw me at home."

He won't look at me.  His voice is thick and harsh as he says again, "Get her out of here.  Battle is no place for someone as weak as her."

Yamcha pulls me away, his hard arms that once comforted only bruising as he drags me out of the hole in the wall.  I can't fight him; I'm far too weak, and frankly, what I see outside makes me only too happy to go home.

The twisted, blasted remains of a massive spaceship lie in tattered remains on the ground.  Someone has put a lot of holes in it – actually, I suspect that it was several friends of mine. 

Yamcha picks me up and starts to fly away.  I cling to him, aware that I don't want to be rescued by him, but more aware that staying here would be dangerous.  We clear the edge of the ship when I chi blast rises out of the rumble, flying at us.

Yamcha starts to dodge, but he's too slow.  I know that it's going to hit us, but Vegeta appears in front of us, his arms outstretched to catch it.  How he managed to refract that massive blast, I'll never know, but he saves us.  "Lower, you idiot!" he howls at Yamcha.  "Stay lower!"  Then he shoots off where the blast came from, disappearing behind the towering rubble.

Yamcha drops into a spin that leaves my stomach behind, but he does get lower, skimming the ground as the battle fades behind us.  After a moment, I tug on his shirt.  "Stop!" I shout over the hissing wind.  "We're far enough!"

He jerks to a stop, and I have to bite my tongue to keep from chewing him out for that abusive halt.  "Put me down," I demand, and he wordlessly drifts to the ground and puts me on my feet.  I promptly drop into a crouch, putting myself as close to the ground as I can without lying flat on it.

"What the hell is going on?" I ask him, looking up at those shadowed eyes.  

"I'm rescuing you," his answer is simple, and not completely true.  I narrow my eyes at him, a danger signal he should be well aware of by now.  "What?"

"What was all that crap about not being trustworthy or wanting to face me?" I snap, frowning at him, angry beyond reason that he's even trying to dissemble to me.  

He turns away from me, staring at the forest floor, sighing.  "I tried to stop Vegeta from taking you that night," he murmured after a long moment.  

"I know.  You've already told me about that," I say, restraining my temper, trying to coax the answer out of him.

"And you know that he's stronger than me," Yamcha said.

"So?"

Yamcha rolls his eyes, and growls, "For a genius, you can be pretty dim.  How in the world could I hurt him as badly as I did?"

I start to answer, then realize that I didn't know.  "I guessed he was hurt enough that you got lucky," I finally admit.  "I never thought to ask.  I don't care, really."

He looks at me sharply, his eyes searching me for something.  "You don't care that I nearly killed him?"

"Of course I care!" I shout.  "He's my friend!  But he's fine, apparently!"

"Your friend," Yamcha snorts, laughing mirthlessly.  "That's rich.  Vegeta's friend."

"Right now, he's being nicer than you are!" I snap, pulling myself to my feet so that I can glare at him better.  "What the hell has gotten into you?"

"I couldn't stop Vegeta, but I could stop him from turning you over to them," Yamcha says, but it's so soft I have to strain to hear it.  His eyes bore into me as he finishes, "Ask me how I planned to do that."

"Fine," I growl, throwing my hands into the air.  "How did you plan to stop Vegeta, Yamcha?"

"I tried to kill you," he answers, and the world stops.

Then I burst into laughter.  "Yamcha, get real," I say, shaking my head.  "You couldn't do that.  What did you really plan?"

He's silent, and the pressure builds.  I stop chuckling and stop smiling after a time, too.  His face is somber, and his eyes are dark with relief and fear.

"Yamcha, what did you plan?" I ask quietly.  

He's just looking at me, and he finally just shrugs.  "It seemed like a good idea at the time," he answers.  

"Killing me seemed like a good idea?" I shriek.  Almost without my permission, as if it has a will of its own, my fist slams into his face.  His head doesn't move, and I'm left holding my hand, cursing in pain.

"Is this man bothering you, Ms. Briefs?" a cultured voice asks behind me.  I spin to see another crystalline creature, bigger than the one who left me in the hospital.  Then I remember where I've seen him – on a video screen three days ago.  

"Montidulein," I gasp, and his face breaks into a large smile.  He gives me a slight bow, but every action is mocking, not polite.

Yamcha is between us, moving too fast for me to see him.  He bounds forward, but a chi blast from Montidulein throws him back into the mud.  I dash to him, kneeling down – he's hurt, but already coughing and curling up on himself as I reach him.  "Run," he moans.  "I'll hold him as long as I can."

"You can't, my dear boy," the alien answers.  "Calcastians are notorious for their ability to fight using chi.  I can remove a fly from a leaf, or destroy a city."

"Or you could just talk us to death," a dry voice answers to the side, and we all turn to see Vegeta drop to the ground.  He's dirty and scuffed, but he looks good considering the last time I really saw him he was unconscious in a hospital.  He doesn't look at Yamcha, but it is clear that he's addressing him when he says, "I thought I told you to take her home."

"Now who's talking us to death?" Montidulein scowls.  "I knew monkeys could chatter endlessly, but this is ridiculous!  Shall we fight instead?"

Vegeta drops into a fighting stance, a wide grin covering his face.  "Gladly."

"But first," Montidulein says, "let's clear the board."  He points his hand at me, and I watch in horror as it glows briefly with chi before flaring out at me in a fiery column of death.  I close my eyes, not wanting that to be the last thing I see.


	12. Part 2, Chapter 5 Finale

"But first," Montidulein says, "let's clear the board."  He points his hand at me, and I watch in horror as it glows briefly with chi before flaring out at me in a fiery column of death.  I close my eyes, not wanting that to be the last thing I see.

But I misjudge my friends.  Arms encircle me, wrapping me up tight as a warm body slides between death and my frail body.  The explosion booms around us, but the warm body, so familiar that I know who it must be, keeps me safe.

"Yamcha," I whisper as I open my eyes, expecting to be smiling up at my boyfriend.  Fiery black eyes meet mine, and I see something flash through them; rage or perhaps pain.  Maybe Montidulein hurt him badly; maybe he's mad that I didn't realize that was him by the sudden flare of pain in my proverbial butt.  Who really knows with Vegeta?

Then he's shoving me away, sending me tumbling backwards.  "The board's clean, Montidulein," I hear him growl as I pick myself up.  I have tumbled for quite some distance; my arms and legs are throbbing from all the things that I must have smacked against, and the fighters are now circling each other about twenty feet away.

"This looks like a good seat," Yamcha mutters next to me.  I glance down, surprised that Vegeta landed me so close to him as he continues, "I wish I had some popcorn."

"You pig, Vegeta could get hurt!" I snarl and turn back to the fight.  Indeed, Vegeta has disappeared into a blast; I have to shield my eyes from it, but when I look again, he is standing tall in the smoldering path.

"That almost hurt," Vegeta snarls, curling his hands into fists and powering up.  He launches himself at Montidulein, and they disappear into a blur that my eye can't follow.  A tree to my left explodes; when the sawdust and wood fragments settle, I see that there is a body-shaped impression in the tree.  Who ever it was didn't seem badly hurt – no blood – but that poor oak is never going to be the same.  

And so the unseen fight goes; all I can see are the effects that it's having on the area.  A fireball explodes to my right, followed a stand of trees behind me bursting into flame.  But the area that Yamcha and I are in stays strangely safe, as if something is protecting us.  Yamcha seems to be following the fight at least; occasionally he flinches or grins and his eyes are following something I can't see.  "What's happening?" I finally ask.  I'm careful to keep my tone brisk; I don't want him to think that I've forgiven him for a second.

"They're fighting," Yamcha answers with a shrug.  Guess he caught my tone and decided to meet it with his favorite weapon: indifference.

"Duh, genius, I know that!" I snap, stomping my foot for emphasis.  "Who's winning?"

"Vegeta would be, if he wasn't burning himself at both ends," Yamcha sighs, climbing to his feet.  "Looks like our chance to run is coming up though; get ready."

"Burning himself?" I gasp, visions of a crispy Vegeta dominating my vision.  "What is he doing?"

"He's fighting Montidulein, but he's also stopping everything that would be within fifteen feet of us," Yamcha answers, sounding concerned.  "He's taken some hits for us, and its going to be the death of him."

"We have to do something!" I yelp and look around, never feeling more helpless than I do right now.  "We have to run so he doesn't need to split his efforts, or you need to team up on Montidulein with him!  Something!  Anything!"

"It doesn't matter; he's coming down," Yamcha says, grabbing my arm.  "Look, when he hits the ground, run.  Montidulein is going stop to kill him, and we'll make good our escape."

"No!" I shout.  "He's come back with the Dragonballs once; we can't bring him back again!" Tears rise in my eyes, and my throat closes with fear and distress.  Vegeta, dead, gone?  It was something I had once hoped for, but not now.  Not ever again.

Something slams into the ground behind us, and I spin to see Vegeta lying on his side, bleeding and broken.  I choke on my tears at this horrible sight; there is no way he's alive!

Then his eyes open; he sees us and mouths, run.  I think that he's starting to say more, but Montidulein lands between us, his back to Yamcha and I, and I can't see the Saiyan anymore.  "Time to say good-bye, Monkey Prince," Montidulein says and raises a hand that begins to glow with energy.

No time to think, to second-guess what I'm doing; I snatch up a nearby branch and wrench my arm from Yamcha's grip.  I dash the ten feet to Montidulein and wind up with the branch like if it were a bat.  He sees me, and starts to turn, but I'm already swinging.  My eye is on the back of his head, like my coach in high school said, and I put everything into it.

I expected to buy a few seconds for Vegeta to pull himself together, or maybe I thought I would shock Yamcha into action.  I didn't expect to have an effect on Montidulein directly.  The branch slams into him with a sickening crunch, and alien, white blood sprays over me.  I gape wordlessly up at the creature who's skull I've just shattered, disbelieving.

"Never focus all your shields to one side," Vegeta growls from the ground.  "You left your back open, Montidulein."

The alien collapses with a shudder, and his skull cracks open further with the impact.  Something whitish-blue and slightly lacey peeks out; my stomach twists as I realize that it is his brain.  Heat rushes up my body as I drop the branch, and then I'm vomiting, emptying my stomach on the ground as hot tears scorch my face.

"Woman?" Vegeta's voice is like an anchor, calming me.  "Are you hurt, or do you always throw up after a fight?"

"I killed him," I rasp, raising my head to see the Saiyan rolling onto his side, gathering himself.  "I stopped a life.  I beat his head open and spilled—"  My stomach rolls again and I hunch over my first pile, but my stomach is empty, and bile just burns my throat.  

Yamcha stumbles over to us, his head down, his hands in his pocket.  "We should get both of you to the hospital," he mumbles, looking ashamed.  Good, he should; he's the one that should kill things not me!  "Vegeta, can you fly?"

"I'm not a weakling," Vegeta growls as he struggles to his feet.  "That fight barely tested me."  But his chest is still heaving, and he is bleeding from numerous wounds.

"I feel fine," I answer shakily as I stand up.  Seeing my hands shake, I revise my statement to, "Well, I will be fine as soon as I calm down a little."

Yamcha picks me up, and I give him a little smile.  I think it's as tight and uncertain as the one he gives me in return.

Vegeta leads the way, flying just ahead of us.  I'm glad; we'll see immediately if he has any problems, and be in a position to help him.  I'm trying to not think about today, about what happened, but I see flashes of it, or hear a phantom crunch of bone.

"You were very brave," Yamcha says suddenly.  I glance up at him, but his face is expressionless.

"Incredibly stupid, more like," I sigh uneasily, my mind recovering from its shock enough to start to question the events of the evening.  "Yamcha, how did I do that?  How did I kill him?"

"I don't know," Yamcha answers softly, his voice tired and empty.

"Don't you want to know?" I ask imperiously.  "How did I squish his head like that?" My unfortunate choice of words makes my stomach churn again, but I swallow it back.  It was time to face the facts and accept what I did, and stop puking over it like a squeamish pre-teen.

"He's a Calcastian," Vegeta hollers from ahead.  "They come from a low-gravity world, but make up for their physical weakness by becoming masters of chi.  That's how he was able to fight in Earth's gravity; like Goku and I, he has adapted and strengthened his chi by fighting in higher gravities.  I couldn't get enough power through his force field, but you came up behind him, and caught him where he wasn't shielded."

"I still don't get it," Yamcha replies.

"That's alright, I wasn't talking to you," Vegeta growls, tossing Yamcha a sneer.

"Play nice, boys," I snap and then explain to Yamcha. "Creatures from a low-gravity world like Calicos—"

"Calcastians," Vegeta butts in to correct me.

"Whatever," I roll my eyes as I continue my lecture, "low-gravity planets produce creatures that are tall and thin and very fragile."  A thought occurs to me, and I continue with a touch of awe in my voice, "Depending on how low-gravity that their planet is, then to them the weakest human may be as physically powerful, exponentially of course, as the weakest Saiyan would be to the strongest human.  His bones would naturally be far weaker than mine, and added to the momentum of the swing…" I let my voice trail off.   Think of it scientifically, I tell myself, and think of it objectively, and it's just a curious observation of the rules of physics now, not a memory of murder.

The Capsule Compound comes into view them, and we are all silent in our own thoughts.  For some reason, I keep sneaking peeks at Vegeta floating ahead of us.  There is something missing in the puzzle of the past few days' events, and it is related to the Saiyan, somehow.  Someone clue that I don't have, or I've missed, or something.  But I'll figure it out, for the last few days have taught me the value my strange Saiyan friend.

*  *  *

I shift on the examination bed, waiting for someone to come get me.  I've been poked and prodded – other than some bruises and scrapes, I'm fine.  I'm sure that patching up Yamcha and Vegeta has kept the doctors busy, and I try to remember that as I wait impatiently.

The door slides open, and Vegeta walks in, in his street clothes; he has some bandages, but he's already on the mend.  I blush and fight for some dignity for a second; I'm still in my hospital gown.  "Yes?" I demand, determined to act with some poise even if I'm half-naked with the Saiyan Prince.

"I was checking to see that no-good doctor was in here," Vegeta says, his eyes raking around the room with a completely false glower.

"I'm fine," I answer him, and I spot a hint of surprise before he covers it with disdain.  "Thanks for asking, Vegeta."

He shrugs, as if it doesn't matter.  But we both knew that he cared, even if he refused to admit it.  "Whatever," he finally growls.  "If you see that lazy medic, send him to see me."

"Vegeta," I snap in my bossiest tone as I sit up, half-pulling the sheets out of the bed in my haste to get vertical and stay decent.  He turns toward me, a glower firmly on his face, but I sense no displeasure at being called back.  I had heard that volatile situations can create a sense of relationship between people, and I knew that was what was going on here.  It would fade, as we all got back to our old lives, but I wanted to enjoy it while I could.  "Why can't you admit that you like me?"

"I don't like you," he snaps, but I see the first hint of pleasure in his eyes.  Was the prince enjoying a bit of verbal sparring?  Fine, I can do that!

"You know what the classic follow-up line to that is, don't you?" I laugh at him as I pull the sheets out of the bed completely and wrap them around me for some decency.   He's staring distrustfully at me, but there is a sense of anticipation flowing from him as well, and it's that brittle edge of emotion that gives me the courage to walk up to him and finish my little joke.

Reaching him, I wrap my left arm over his shoulders, and sweep myself into a classic dip, careful to keep my leg under me to support me, since Vegeta wasn't going to.  I fling my hand out as I finish dramatically, "You don't like me, Vegeta; you love me!"

I hold myself in place for a second, expecting a snort of contempt or some verbal jab.  When he remains silent, I lift my head so that I can peek up at him.  He's frozen in place, his body in the exact position that it was when I started.  But his eyes have rolled down to me, and there is a mixture of hope and fear in his face.  When he sees me looking at him, he moves; his arm slides upward, past and around all the sheets and hospital gowns to touch my back.  I shiver at the feel of his bare skin against mine as he gently and firmly pulls me up out of the dip.

"Vegeta?" I ask, but the rest of the question, _what's wrong_, dies on my lips.  I know what's wrong, as all the hints and clues of the past days – hell, the past _months – suddenly click together.  "Do you, do you…" I gasp, struggling to say the impossible._

He puts a finger to my lips.  "Shush, woman," he murmurs.  "Don't embarrass yourself by asking."  His hands stay for a heartbeat longer, and then he drops them, and I see that he's beginning to pull away from me, just like he always does.

My hand is still on his warm neck; with a sudden sense of ownership I slide it up into his hair feeling the stiff, smooth hair rub my hand as I caress his scalp.  "You do, and you didn't tell me," I state, still unable to complete the full statement, to say aloud the impossible thought that I might have reached past the shielding that the Prince had erected. I hesitate before asking, "Why?" searching his eyes for answers.

He steps back from me, pulling out of my arms.  I fight not to hold onto him, letting him slide away if that is what he wants; I'm not the type of girl to go where I'm not welcome.  "You love Yamcha," he answers me, then turns and walks quickly from the room, as if he doesn't trust himself anymore. 

I pull myself back to my bed, shaking slightly with mad thoughts whirling my head.  But there is one thought that I keep coming back to, time after time, and I finally utter it, to see if it sounds real.  "No, I don't, not anymore," I murmur, and discover that it sounds right.  

I pull myself to my feet.  I have to find Yamcha and talk to him.  No, I have to find Yamcha and _tell him._

*  *  *

Two days isn't enough time for anything important, but some things have a termination date.  Some things you'll never have enough time for, but that's the point to life; figuring out how to do it anyway.

I wait for him outside of the G.R., fighting the urge to run.  The hum that signals activation ceases and I bite my lip to keep from running.  The door hisses open, and it's too late to run; Vegeta's face jumps with surprise before hiding in a neutral position again. "Hi," I squeak out, feeling silly that I put make-up and a dress on to talk to him.  It's Vegeta – it's not like he's impressed by this sort of thing!

He just looks at me, and I'm dismayed to find that he's closed his face off already, that the bond forged by all the stress and pain is already weakened.  Did I imagine the conversation in the hospital?  There's only one way to know.  "Can we talk?" I ask, forcing my voice into evenness.

"I haven't even showered yet, woman," he rumbles at me, and some of the knots in my stomach relax as I realize that his voice still holds all the inflection for me that it did two days ago.

"It won't take long," I offer, flashing my best 'pretty-please' smile at him.

He sighs and crosses his arms, leaning against the GR.  "What?"

"You were wrong, in the hospital," I say, cutting straight to the point.  He narrows his eyes at me, hating to be called wrong on anything, but he doesn't interrupt me.  "I _loved Yamcha, but I don't anymore."_

"Shouldn't you talk to the moron about this?" he snaps as he slides past me, striding for the house.

"I already did!" I huff in irritation and dash after him, grabbing his arm to slow him.  "Are you going to ignore me?  Because I can go to Goku's with food if that's what I want to experience."

"So why are you telling me?" he growls, but he's stopped and is looking at me, with a glare that shoots to my feet.

"You know why, you ass!" I hiss, leaning forward slightly.

"Say it, then," he smirks at me, and I realize that he's picking a fight.  Damn it, why can't he just talk to me; why does he have to make this hard?

"Fine," I snarl, crossing my arms angrily.  "Because I thought that you might want to know."

"I do," he murmurs, his sudden change in mood throwing me off.  His hand moves, rises slightly before drops to his side again uncertainly.  

I feel my face soften and lose its anger, but now I'm not sure what to do.  He's talking to me, actually talking to me, and I'm not sure how to talk to him unless the world or someone I love is being threatened.

"So, I've told you," I hear myself state and I try not to flinch at the brisk tone.  God, what was wrong with me?  It's just Vegeta!  

"Good," he answers awkwardly after a moment.  His fingers are squeezing the towel over his shoulders now, and he looks like he wants to sink into the earth

"Great," I agree and search desperately for anything else to say.  Don't you dare blow this!

"I need to shower," he says and turns and heads for the house.

"Vegeta!" I yelp, calling him back.  He turns and scowls at me, but it's just so much show and I can see that he isn't upset.  I rack my brain for something, anything to say.  "Um… We're having roast tonight."

"Good," he says and starts to turn toward the house again.  I'm just giving up on myself when he turns back and says, "You'll be at dinner?"

"Oh, yes!" I say enthusiastically as I kick myself for sounding like a dweeb.

"Good, you need some meat on your bones," he sneers, but he's unable to hide his pleasure at the prospect of me being at dinner.

"So you'll be there too?" I ask before he darts away again.

"Yes, of course," he state condescendingly.  "Your mother cooks meat adequately."

"Good," I answer with a bubbly smile.  My face is starting to hurt from all this desperate smiling.

"Great," he replies and, miracle of miracles, he gives me a ghost of a smile.  

I'm moving forward without thinking; I stride up to him and give him a kiss on the cheek.  "Thanks, for everything," I murmur, and he does smile this time.

"You're welcome, woman," he replies, his eyes caressing my face.  Then he's striding into the house, before his face finishes turning red.  

With a giggle, I spin and hug myself, warm from being in his presence.  How long since I had felt like this around Yamcha?  Never, I realize, and I now know that I have made the right choice.  With a giddy smile, I turn and walk into the house to get ready for dinner – and for the future with the Prince of All Saiyans. 

*----------*----------*

And so concludes the Prince of All.  You have seemed to enjoy it, and I have enjoyed hearing about your enjoyment.  I have had one person ask for The Grande Prix, so it will probably be next; though it will be a couple weeks (at best estimate) until it is ready for posting.

Finally, I'd like to thank a few people:

Rhapsody – I've admired your work (plug!), and to have you both review and take the time to write me personally made my week!  Thanks so much!

Muffy – Thanks for all the great reviews.  I half-think that you are my biggest fan, or at least my most vocal.  

Marci – Thanks for being so tough on my other stories – you've forced me to assess my writing far more critically than I have before, and I think that Prince of All was a better story for it.  I hope you're one of the people who reads this story – I'd like you to see what you're responsible for. ;^

To everyone who reviewed – Too many to name, but I've kept all your reviews, and read them when I'm down.  My email account was been getting bombed with the Worm during the heart of Prince of All, and it was always so nice to see a review mixed in with the junk.  You all have helped me keep my sanity during an otherwise hellish time in life.  Blessings and thanks to you all.

Goodnight!


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